Growing Up at Hogwarts
by StrawberryTrebutchet
Summary: What if things had gone differently? Instead of Albus Dumbledore leaving baby Harry Potter at the Dursleys, he decides to raise Harry up himself with a little help from Professor McGonagall and Hagrid. Harry grows up at Hogwarts, safe- and most importantly- happy. Yet danger looms. . . and nowhere, not even Hogwarts, is truly safe.
1. Chapter 1: Prologue

**Chapter One: Prologue**

It was Halloween night- 1981- and the little cottage at the end of the main road in Godric's Hollow had been decorated for the festivities. Plastic spiders hung from fake webs across the front door, and bright orange blinds had replaced the old, cream-coloured curtains Lily Evans had inherited from her parents, just for one night. Strewn across the front lawn- surrounded by old, dead leaves James Potter had yet to rake up- where around twelve small pumpkin candle-holders that the Potters had found wandering around Muggle shops in the surrounding towns a few years previously. Inside, the house was even more lavishly decorated, with fake masks and skeletons hanging from the walls, and a large bowl of sweets and caramels on the coffee table in the living room. James had even found an old costume of a Muggle's idea of a witch- pointed hat and all- and had persuaded Lily to wear it at the Halloween party they were planning on the weekend. James himself was going to be a clown, and they had found Harry a nice tiger onesie for him to wear too.

The Potters were now seated in their living room, James having just come back from work an hour or so previously. He looked tired, but at the same time relaxed as he wrapped his arms around Lily and waved his wand lazily through the air, causing colourful bubbles to drift slowly around Harry, who was playing on the floor. Harry waved his tiny fists in the air and tried to catch some of the bubbles, but they naturally popped every time he touched them. He was wearing his light blue pyjamas, and Lily remembered how they had been a present from Bathilda on Harry's first birthday. She realised with a jolt that it had been over three months ago now- it seemed like it had happened yesterday. Just a small party: with Sirius, Remus, Peter and Bathilda. Dumbledore had even paid a visit a few weeks earlier, just to check how things were going, and Harry had taken an immediate liking to the old Professor.

Of course, many things had happened since then. The McKinnons had been murdered- for one- and Lily had cried for days because she had been good friends with Marlene at Hogwarts and up until her death. She had also written to Petunia, something she did around two or three times a year, other than the usual cards she sent for Birthdays and Christmas, but there had been no reply. She wished Petunia would stop being so difficult- though she did suspect her husband Vernon had something to do with it- and let them see their son Dudley so that Harry could meet them and have a friend. It was so hard for Harry to play with children his age, as they were now in hiding all the time and had limited contact with the outside world. It wasn't easy for Lily to see them all like this, cooped up inside, with James being the only one allowed to leave the house to do work for the Order, but Lily knew it was for Harry's safety- and her's and James' too. After Dumbledore had informed them of the prophecy, and explained that Voldemort had chosen Harry and intended to track them down and kill him, life had ceased to be easy. Yes, they had been living in a war then too, and having faced Voldemort multiple times- in mortal danger anyway. But to be targeted- for their son to be targeted like this. . . Lily wished with all her heart that she could just wrap her arms around Harry and take him away from everything, where he could be safe. As much as it pained her, however, she would never wish for Voldemort to choose Alice and Frank's son- Neville- instead. She loved Alice dearly, and was just as much friends with her as she had been with Marlene, but they hadn't seen each other for over a year, not since Harry and Neville were born and the two families had gotten together to celebrate.

Lily choked back some tears and buried her head deeper into James' chest. _How she loved him._ Every time she looked into his deep, brown eyes she would melt into his arms like butter. Yes, he _had_ been an idiot when he was a teenager, but then again they all had at some point- and the war had made them all grow up much faster than they would have otherwise liked.

James glanced at his old watch. It had been passed down to him by his great-grandfather and given to him as a present on his 17th birthday. He wondered if he would ever get the chance give Harry the watch, but shook the negative thought away immediately. _Of course_ Harry would come of age, _of course_ James would give him the watch. They would all grow up to be old and happy and he and Lily would die surrounded by grandchildren. They were perfectly safe now, no one but Dumbledore and a few other close friends knew their location. . . there was nothing yet _so much_ to worry about at the same time. . .

The time. It was nearly midnight.

'Um. . . Lily,' he said, gently removing his arm from around her and stretching. 'Do you think Harry should go to bed now? It's getting pretty late.'

Lily smiled at him and nodded, getting up and picking Harry up off the ground, swinging him into her arms. 'I'll take him up upstairs now.'

James ruffled Harry's short tufts of messy black hair. 'See you in the morning, little man.' Harry gurgled at him and clapped his hands. He didn't look the slightest bit tired, but if James was correct- and he usually was- Harry would be dropping off to sleep the moment Lily placed him in his crib. He gave Lily a hug and they kissed- a long, deep kiss that should've lasted hours, but was interrupted by a sudden loud noise at the door. The couple froze, their lips pressed tightly together. Slowly, James pulled apart and peered at the front door. He couldn't see anything in the dark of the hallway, but he sensed the dark shadow standing just outside the door. He didn't need to think, didn't need to reason, for him to know who it was.

The Fidelius charm had broken.

'Lily,' he croaked. 'Take Harry and go. It's him. Go! Run! I'll hold him off!'

Lily was in no doubt that he was right. Weeping softly into Harry's pyjamas, she walked quickly past James and hurried up the stairs to the nursery- images of Voldemort standing in the middle of a battlefield, everyone she knew and loved dead all around her, flashing through her mind as she pushed open the nursery door and stumbled in, closing it behind her. She heard James' voice downstairs, a high cruel laugh, and a thump that sent a wracking sob through her body. _James was dead_ \- she knew it. He had died trying to protect her and Harry. . . he had died trying to protect his son. Her love, her heart- her _life-_ was dead. It felt like the ground below her had ripped open and she had fallen into the fiery depths of hell.

But she still had Harry. _Harry_ , the only one she had left now- the rope she could grasp and use to pull herself back up to Earth. Lily placed Harry in his crib and kissed his forehead. He still didn't realise what had happened. . . didn't understand that he would never hear his daddy's warm laughter or feel his gentle hands lifting him up into the air again.

She heard Voldemort coming up the steps and gasped. In a moment of desperation, she began piling everything she could against the closed nursery door in order to barricade it. Part of her knew it was useless- Voldemort was taking his time to come upstairs, if he believed they had a chance of escaping, he would have already reached them and been about to end their lives- but the rest of her hoped it would help, if only somewhat. She wouldn't stand around and watch as he murdered her son. She had to do something, however fruitless it seemed.

Lily pushed Harry's large, heavy chest of drawers against the door, something which she would have found impossible without magic a mere few minutes ago. But a new, fiery strength had sprung up inside her. She knew she had to protect her son, whatever the cost may be, however much she'd have to pay for her actions. She had already lost so much. . . she had already lost James. . . but she wasn't going to lose Harry. She would defend him from Voldemort until the very end.

She moved to stand next to the crib just as the door burst open. Voldemort stood in the doorway, his red eyes scanning the room. Lily screamed and flung herself in front of Harry, shielding him.

'Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!'

'Stand aside, you silly girl. . . stand aside, now. . .'

'Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead-'

'This is my last warning-'

'Not Harry! Please. . . have mercy. . . have mercy. . . not Harry! Not Harry! Please- I'll do anything!'

'Stand aside- stand aside, girl-'

Voldemort could have forced her away from the crib, but it seemed more prudent to finish them all. Green light flashed around the room and Lily dropped to the ground like her husband.

Harry had not cried all this time: he could stand, clutching the bars of his crib, and he looked up into the intruder's face with a kind of bright interest, perhaps thinking that it was his father who hid beneath the cloak, making more pretty lights, and his mother would pop up any moment, laughing-

Voldemort pointed his wand very carefully into the boy's face: he wanted to see it happen- the destruction of this one, inexplicable danger. The child began to cry: it had seen that the strange man was not James. Voldemort did not like it crying, he had never been able to stomach the small ones' whining in the orphanage-

' _Avada Kedavra!'_

And then he broke: he was nothing, nothing but pain and terror, and he must hide himself, not here in the rubble of the ruined house, where the child was trapped and screaming, but far away. . . far away. . .


	2. Chapter 2: A Different Beginning

**Chapter Two: A Different Beginning**

Albus Dumbledore stared down at Harry Potter: wonder, amazement and sadness flashing across his sombre features. The child had survived and Voldemort had been destroyed to the point of almost nothing. It was a miracle- yet Dumbledore couldn't say he hadn't expected something like this to happen. The child was asleep in his crib, but his face was flushed and wet with recent tears. A bleeding cut also stretched across his small forehead, near the middle: a scar in the shape of a lightning bolt. Dumbledore knew about cursed scars, but he had never seen anything like this one. It was almost _glowing_ red, and it was so fresh- so _alive._ Voldemort must have been there mere minutes ago.

Slowly, Dumbledore moved his hands towards Harry and gently picked the boy up- holding him against his chest- and stared around the room. It was almost completely destroyed- the walls and roof were gone so that the room opened up to the stars and a fresh breeze blew around them, but some of the furniture had survived what must have been some sort of magical explosion of energy. A baby changer lay a meter or so from the crib, and a small chest of drawers filled with clothes and baby supplies had been flung into the middle of the room. There was also a cute stuffed toy dragon in the crib, and a few random blocks scattered around the floor- some of them charred- which looked about to collapse any moment. Dumbledore could hear yells and shouts coming from across the street and a little down the road, and knew the Muggles would start swarming around the house to investigate any minute- he didn't have much time. Still holding Harry in one arm, Dumbledore pointed his wand at the crib and it disappeared with a small _whoosh_ \- sucked straight into the tip of his wand. He pointed it at the chest and the same thing happened. Then at the blocks on the floor and the toy dragon: they shimmered for a moment before vanishing. Dumbledore walked to the baby changer and placed Harry on top. He rummaged underneath and found what he was looking for: a small knitted blanket. He wrapped it around Harry and picked him up again, pointing his wand behind him as he strode towards the door and 'collecting' it like the other items. As on the way up, Dumbledore tried not to look at the bodies of his old friends as he stepped over them and walked out into the front garden. He would have to look after them later and decide what to do about everything else. Dumbledore glanced around, making sure no one was watching, and- with a small pop that broke the still silence of the night- disappeared.

Seconds later he was walking hurriedly across the lawns surrounding Hogwarts Castle, heading straight for the large oak front doors. His robes billowed around him as he quickened his pace, Harry still held tightly against his beard. He had deduced that Harry didn't have any major injuries, but the cut on his forehead was worrying and nevertheless, Madam Pomfrey ought to look him over. The doors opened to admit Dumbledore as he reached them and he rushed along the corridors- the people in the portraits waking up and staring as he passed them. It was, after all, still only the early hours of the morning. The door to the Hospital Wing was opened just a crack and yellow light streamed out- he could hear voices coming from inside. Dumbledore knocked twice and pushed it open.

Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey were sitting around the fire on a couple of small seats, but they got up immediately upon seeing Dumbledore. Professor McGonagall stepped forwards, breathing heavily.

'Albus, did they. . . are they. . .?'

Dumbledore hung his head, a fresh tear falling down his cheek. Minerva and Madam Pomfrey looked at each other, then Minerva fell back down into her chair, clutching her chest.

'Lily and James dead, oh Albus, I can't believe it. . .'

Madam Pomfrey was wiping her eyes with a tissue. They stood in silence for a minute, mourning the loss of their friends.

'And, and . . . He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?' Madam Pomfrey broke the quiet, her voice quivering.

'Gone.' croaked Dumbledore.

'You don't mean he's dead?' whispered Minerva.

'No,' said Dumbledore, looking up. 'But he is weak. Very week. Reduced to almost nothing.'

'But _how?'_

'Harry.'

'Their son? He's not. . . he's not. . .'

Dumbledore shook his head. 'No, he is alive. He defeated Voldemort.'

'But, but he's just a baby!' cried Madam Pomfrey.

'Exactly,' said Dumbledore as he moved closer to them, and the two witches noticed for the first time that he was holding a bundle of blankets in his arms.

'Did you- did you _know_ he was going to survive? No one has ever- not with that curse-'

'I had my suspicions. That is why I called you down here half an hour ago and asked you to wait while I went to investigate. The Killing Curse killed Lily and James and destroyed their house, bit couldn't harm Harry.'

Minerva and Madam Pomfrey moved so that they were standing next to Dumbledore. They peered down at the little baby boy wrapped in the blankets and Dumbledore spoke again: 'But he is hurt, which is why I brought him here. Poppy, could you?'

Madam Pomfrey took him gently from Dumbledore's arms and peered at him. 'Poor dear,' she whispered, moving Harry's hair to the side and staring at his cut. 'A cursed scar.'

'Yes.' Dumbledore said softly.

Madam Pomfrey took Harry over to a bed and placed him down on it, unwrapping him from the blankets as Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall stood next to the bed to watch. Poppy took a wet cloth and slowly wiped the blood off Harry's scar so that it was nothing more than a thin, pink-ish cut. Then she wiped his face dry of tears and began unbuttoning his pyjamas.

Harry's hand twitched a bit and he moved. Poppy stopped. Harry opened and closed his fists and slowly opened his eyes. Minerva just managed to say how much they resembled Lily's before Harry gave a loud wail and began crying. Poppy immediately finished taking Harry's pyjamas off and picked him up, murmuring soft words and holding him against her chest to try and soothe him, but Harry continued to yell, until every breath was an effort and his cries became quiet sobbing.

'I think it's his scar,' Poppy told Dumbledore. 'I'm going to try and numb the pain and give him a children's dreamless sleep potion.'

Madam Pomfrey set Harry back down on the bed and took out her wand, waving it around him in small circles. Then she brought it closer to Harry's scar and the tip of her wand touched it gently. Harry gave a loud sob but seemed to choke halfway through it, shocked. _He didn't understand why the pain had suddenly gone. . . and where was his mother? He wanted his mother- why wouldn't she come? Where was she?_ Harry was about to star wailing again when he felt something rubbery against his lips. Poppy was holding a baby bottle filled with the purple potion. Harry opened and closed his mouth, trying to find the milk. He latched on, sucking softly, and moments later was asleep. Poppy removed the bottle from his mouth and placed it on the bedside table, and the three adults stared down at the baby. How strange was it that their saviour was still wearing nappies and drinking from bottles. That he could barely stand, yet had defeated the most powerful Dark Wizard of all time. Poppy quickly checked the rest of his body over for injuries, but other than a small scratch on his leg, Harry was fine. She put his pyjamas back on with a wave of her wand and wrapped him back up in his blankets before handing him to Dumbledore, who took Harry and looked up.

'Harry Potter has two options,' he said quietly. 'He can go and live in Surrey with his muggle aunt and uncle, where magical wards formed from his mother's blood would keep him safe from Voldemort's followers and anybody wishing him harm-'

'You don't mean _The Dursleys_?' cried Minerva. 'Lily told me all about them, and they _despise_ magic- they hate anything magical and barely even _spoke_ to the Potters!'

'As I said, he has two options,' repeated Dumbledore softly. 'His other one would be to stay here, and live with us. We could raise him, here in the castle. He would be safe here, too. I agree The Dursleys are not ideal candidates for raising a magical child, and perhaps it would be best for him to grow up here.'

'Here?' said Minerva. 'Albus, aren't there more options, other than those two? What about Sirius Black? He _is_ his godfather, after all, and Lily and James would have wanted-'

'No,' said Dumbledore, and the two other witches sensed a coldness in his voice they had never heard before. 'Sirius Black was the one that betrayed them. He was their Secret Keeper, and he sold them to Voldemort.'

Minerva gasped.

'Sirius Black? James' best friend while they were at school?' exclaimed Madam Pomfrey.

Dumbledore nodded gravely.

'He is staying here,' said Minerva- and her voice had something final in it. The three of them looked down at the small baby again, and despite the sadness they all felt, Dumbledore couldn't help but smile slightly.

A/N: Please read and review :)


	3. Chapter 3: A new life

**Chapter 3: A new life**

Dumbledore woke the next morning- or rather, several hours later- to the sound of crying. It took him a few seconds to realise where it was coming from, before everything that had happened the previous night came rushing back to him. _Halloween, The Potters dead, Voldemort defeated, Harry Potter alive. . ._

He slowly got out of bed, pulling on a long silk dressing gown, and walked out of his bedroom and onto the landing outside the door- which was above the main part of his office- and then entered a room several meters away from his, also on the landing. Dumbledore had brought Harry up there after leaving the Hospital Wing and put him to sleep in the crib he had taken from Godric's Hollow. The room had once been a spare office but had been cleared of everything except for a few dark wooden bookcases and shelves in the past few years. It wasn't a very big room, but it wasn't small either and had two very large windows on the wall opposite the door. The crib was set in the middle of the room, and the other furniture and things Dumbledore had collected were spread out randomly around it.

Harry was sobbing openly, his eyes and fists scrunched up tightly, but he stopped when Dumbledore reached him. Long arms stretched out, lifting him up and out of the crib and holding him close. Harry blinked, his eyes shiny and wet with tears, and snuggled into the warm robes of his holder, sniffling.

'There, there, Harry,' murmured Dumbledore after a minute, and Harry buried his face in Dumbledore's shoulder. 'Do you remember me? I came to visit you after your birthday a few months ago. My name is Albus.'

Harry stared up at him.

Dumbledore smiled and held Harry for a few more minutes, before placing him on the floor. He waved his wand and one of Harry's toys flew across the room towards them. The toy, a little wooden car with moving wheels, was deposited in front of Harry.

'Oooh!' Harry reached out and tried to grab Dumbledore's wand, ignoring the car altogether. Dumbledore lifted it out of his reach, then waved it and a few colourful sparks shot out, causing Harry to smile slightly for the first time and clap his hands. 'More!'

'More?' Dumbledore smiled at the toddler, amused. 'How about you play with the car instead?' He gave the car a small push and it rolled a few meters away. Harry pushed himself up and toddled over to it, then bent down and pushed it: the car moved forwards again and Harry giggled. He seemed to have forgotten his earlier upset completely.

Dumbledore got up and looked around him. He would have to go to the Ministry that morning, and sort through the things that needed to be done: He had to speak to Minister Bagnold about everything, make sure the right facts made it out to the public before the majority of the Wizarding population woke up to the news that Voldemort had been defeated, and Harry's involvement in it all (the sun was only now starting to rise above the horizon, bathing the room in a soft warm light), deal with the Aurors and Sirius Black, and take care of Lily and James' bodies and the Muggles at Godric's Hollow.

First, though, the room needed clearing and organising if it was going to be Harry's new nursery from now on.

Dumbledore waved his wand around and immediately cleaned the floor and other surfaces of dust and anything else that had accumulated there. He vanished all of the bookcases (he would deal with them later) except for a small one, which was clear of all books, and then Harry's crib was pushed against the furthest wall from the door. Harry's other things, the furniture that hadn't been damaged by the explosion, was placed in different spots around the room; the chest of drawers against the same far wall as the crib, the changing table in between the two large windows, and a highchair opposite the crib. Finally, Dumbledore changed the colours of the walls to a pale light-blue and conjured up a soft floor mat with a triangular pattern onto the dark wooden floor. The leftover bookcase would have to be filled with books and some of Harry's toys, and perhaps changed to a different colour.

Overall, Dumbledore thought he had done a good job for somebody with no experience whatsoever in children's rooms or child raising. All he knew was what he had seen his mother do when he was younger, and he could hardly remember that now, as it had been over 90 years previously.

Harry seemed in awe of the new room. Even though he was familiar with most of the things, they were in a completely new environment. He rushed around, touching things and pulling drawers open, then went up to one of the windows- which reached down so low they nearly touched the floor- and pressed his face against the glass. Dumbledore was just about to suggest to Harry that they go through to the office when the door opened behind him and Professor McGonagall entered the room. She looked around at the transformation in surprise.

'Good morning, Minerva,' said Dumbledore pleasantly.

'Albus.' Minerva nodded. 'How is he?'

'If you are referring to Harry, I don't think he has quite realised what has happened yet,' replied Dumbledore. 'I haven't heard him asking for Lily and James yet, but he did wake up crying this morning.'

'Poor child,' said Minerva sadly. She went to Harry, who had turned around at his position next to the window and was staring at her. 'Hello, Harry.'

Harry looked up at her, eyes wide, and didn't say a word. Minerva gave him a small smile, then faced Dumbledore again.

'I suppose you will head to the Ministry to sort things out.'

Dumbledore nodded.

'Are you taking Harry?'

'No. I think it is best that he stays here for now. He needs time to settle in and get used to being here, in this new place.'

'I can look after him,' said Minerva. It was a Sunday, and there were no classes.

'I thought you might say that,' said Dumbledore smiling. 'I shouldn't be that long, but there is no knowing these days with Bagnold.' He sighed. 'Harry needs breakfast, but I suggest you avoid going down to the Great Hall. The students will only ask questions.'

'Of course,' said Minerva. Dumbledore nodded again, said goodbye, then left the room to get ready to leave. Minerva crouched down next to Harry.

'My name is Minerva,' she said. 'I'm going to look after you until Albus get's back.'

'Min!' Harry cried.

'That's right,' said Minerva. 'Do you want some breakfast, Harry?'

'Fa!'

Minerva picked him up and carried him over to the highchair. Harry wriggled in it for a bit, looking slightly uncomfortable, then giggled and slammed both his hands on the plastic top. Minerva smiled at the toddler's antics, then called 'Leezey!'

A kitchen house-elf appeared in the room, bowing down in front of the Transfiguration Professor. 'Miss called Leezey?' said the elf, beaming.

'Yes. Could you please prepare some chopped-up fruit for breakfast?' Minerva told her.

The elf glanced at Harry- who had never seen a house-elf before and was staring at her with a shocked expression on his face- and nodded before disappearing with a pop. She was back a minute later, holding a bowl filled with the fruit. Minerva took them and placed them in front of Harry.

'Is Miss needing anything else from Leezey?' asked the elf.

'No, thank you,' Minerva replied, dismissing the elf, who vanished immediately.

A short while later, Harry had finished his breakfast. There were a few small squares of fruit on the floor and a bit of mashed banana on Harry's pyjamas, but otherwise, the meal had gone quite well and Harry hadn't cried or gotten upset. After cleaning up the mess, Minerva took Harry out of the highchair and lay him down on the changing table, where she gave him a new nappy and dressed him in some clothes she found in the chest of drawers: a pair of dark blue overalls over a plain-coloured onesie and some striped socks. Then she placed him on the floor, where she sat down as well and brought over a few toys so that Harry could play.

Harry immediately crawled over to his stuffed toy dragon and held it against his chest, hugging it tightly. 'Dah-gon!' he said, smiling toothily. 'Rawr!' Then he stood up and walked over to the closed door, still holding the dragon in his hand.

'Don't you want to play, Harry?' asked Minerva. Harry looked at her, then back at the door, and she got up off the floor and went over to his side. 'Okay. Would you like to go and have a look outside? We can go for a walk around Albus' office.'

In response, Harry moved even closer to the door, so she took his small hand and they went out onto the landing and down a small staircase to the office. Harry seemed extremely curious about everything in the room, especially the strange glittering instruments and contraptions strewn around everywhere, and started exclaiming 'oooh!' again every time he saw something shiny. As he explored, Minerva told him about Hogwarts and the students and how it was going to be his new home from now on, even though she knew he couldn't understand what she was saying yet.

The rest of the day went by quickly. Harry took a short nap, ate lunch (which went the same way as breakfast) did some more wandering around, and was playing in the middle of the office with a few of his toys when Dumbledore returned from being out. Everything had gone well at the Ministry, and things had been sorted. Lily and James would be buried the next day, and Sirius Black- along with all other known Death Eaters- was currently being hunted down by the Aurors.

'Bagnold will be coming here later on in the afternoon to see Harry,' Dumbledore told Minerva, sitting down at his desk and observing Harry as he played happily. 'And the news of Voldemort's defeat has already spread through the Wizarding World,' he took out a folded copy of the Daily Prophet and handed it to Minerva. She opened it up and read it quickly.

' _You-Know-Who gone. . . times of celebration. . . Lily and James Potter killed last night in an attack. . . Harry Potter defeated You-Know-Who. . . Albus Dumbledore confirms rumours at the Ministry. . ._ They're calling him _The-Boy-Who-Lived!'_

'I know,' said Dumbledore. 'I think we should introduce him to the students tonight, at dinner. There is no doubt they have heard the whole story now, and as he is going to be living here, I'd rather they know before the press finds out.'

Minerva nodded. The two professors sat quietly, Harry's occasional baby-talk breaking the silence. There wasn't much else to say. Both were still trying to come to terms with the fact that Voldemort was finally gone (at least for the moment), that Lily and James were dead, and that they were now going to look after their one-year-old baby.

It was. . . well, if Minerva had been told two days previously that all of this would happen- that a 15-month-old would defeat You-Know-Who, the most dangerous and dark wizard of all time, and then go to live at Hogwarts under the care of her and Albus- she would have laughed.

* * *

A/N: Please read and review :)

Also, a short note: in Canon, Professor McGonagall married Elphinstone Urquart in 1982 (before he died 3 years later,) but for the purpose of this story they will never meet


	4. Chapter 4: News

**Chapter 4: News**

By dinnertime that evening, the students of Hogwarts had had the whole day to celebrate the end of the war and the defeat of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and the Great Hall was buzzing with excitement and happiness. _How could it be?_ Overnight, the terror of the past few years had ended. The Dark Lord was gone, and for 95% of the students in the Hall, this was the best news they'd heard in a long, long time.

Before heading down to the Hall, Dumbledore had spoken to the rest of the staff and informed them of everything that had- and would- happen. They had taken it well, after the initial shock of having all the rumours that had been circling around confirmed, and all seemed to be very taken with Harry. All except for Severus Snape, of course. Dumbledore had informed him before anyone else, even before The Daily Prophet article had been published, and the man had not taken it well. He was completely destroyed with grief over Lily's death, and he didn't care at all that the son of James Potter was alive and going to live at Hogwarts, which- Dumbledore supposed- was understandable. He only hoped Severus would see sense with time.

He had also taken Harry down to Hagrid, who had been in tears by the end of the visit. 'I'll be yer friend,' he had whispered hoarsely, giving Harry a scratchy kiss on his forehead. 'I'll look after yeh!' Then to Dumbledore: 'I'll be honoured ter watch 'im sometimes. 'S what Lily 'n James would'a liked.'

The chatter of the students slowly died down as more and more people noticed the dark-haired baby sitting in a high chair at the Staff table, and a curious mutter spread around. Dumbledore tapped his goblet with a spoon and stood up, addressing the entire Hall, and a hush went over the room:

'Students. As you all know, today has been a day of happiness and celebration,' Dumbledore began. 'Lord Voldemort is gone, and we are free from the terrors of war.'

'As you have no doubt heard in The Daily Prophet, Harry Potter has managed to defeat Voldemort, although we do not yet know how. It sounds impossible, but it has happened, and he is sitting with us now.'

Everyone was staring at Harry intently, who was busy squishing some food with his hands. Some of the students even stood up to get a better look.

'Harry will be living here at Hogwarts from now on, as his parents Lily and James Potter were killed when Voldemort attacked them yesterday night.' Dumbledore continued. 'And although he is now considered a hero amongst our world, I ask you to remember that he is only a child- a toddler barely over a year old. An ordinary boy, that just so happens to have done an extraordinary thing.'

All eyes were on the Headmaster now.

'Celebrate the end of the war, as you should,' said Dumbledore, smiling sadly at them all. 'But also acknowledge the horrors that have occurred, and remember that we have all been affected in some way or another, and that some of us in this Hall have lost people close to us. Like Harry Potter, who has been left an orphan. Like many of you, who have lost parents too. Brothers, and sisters, and grandparents. Uncles and Aunts and cousins. Friends. Family.'

'Now, let us enjoy our feast. Tuck in.' Dumbledore sat down heavily, and talk resumed in the Hall- thought his time it was louder and more frantic. Next to him, Minerva was wiping Harry's broccoli-smeared face with a napkin. She smiled thinly at him, and he nodded back, reaching for Harry's head and ruffling his hair softly. The toddler turned his head towards him and exclaimed: 'Da!'

'I'm not your father, Harry,' said Dumbledore sadly. 'James is gone. And Lily, your mother. You understand that, don't you?'

'Da!' went Harry again.

'He doesn't, now.' Minerva tapped the empty bowl in front of Harry with her wand, sighing, and it vanished off the table. 'But he will soon enough.'

* * *

'So,' said Minister Bagnold, pressing her lips together tightly. 'This is Harry Potter.'

She had arrived shortly after dinner- and after Harry had taken his first bath at Hogwarts- and was currently sitting in a hard-backed chair which had been conjured in the middle of Harry's new room, hands clasped together on her lap. Harry was playing on the baby mat in front of her with a set of colourful stacking blocks, occasionally throwing them a few feet away much to his own amusement.

'Yes,' said Dumbledore pleasantly. 'This is Harry.'

'Well,' Bagnold said, looking around. 'It looks like you have done quite an adequate job so far with this room, Dumbledore. Has he settled in, yet? Who will be caring for him?'

'I believe he is starting to get used to being here,' Dumbledore replied. 'And as for who will be looking after him, I will be watching him as I work with the occasional help from the rest of the staff, who have offered up their time during their breaks.'

'Well,' the Minister said again after a few seconds. On the floor, Harry gurgled and put a block in his mouth. 'Saviour of the Wizarding World indeed.'

* * *

A/N: Please read and review :)


	5. Chapter 5: The weeks that followed

**Chapter 5: The weeks that followed**

In the weeks that followed, life at Hogwarts for Harry seemed to take on a routine, and he began to adjust to living at the castle. He got along with most of the teachers and staff (with the exceptions, of course, being Professor Snape and Filch) and many of the students seemed to adore him from afar. Some of them had even approached Harry to say hello and to wish him a good morning, or to simply meet the little baby they were calling The-Boy-Who-Lived. And although he was woken every few nights by recurring nightmares (Dumbledore knew exactly what they must be about, and it saddened him to no end), Harry was steadily settling and becoming happier and more content.

Life outside the castle was not all cheerful, however, and though the war had officially ended with the defeat of Voldemort, battles were still being fought. Death Eaters were still on the loose and there were attacks most days- mainly on unsuspecting muggles, but sometimes on wizarding families too. One particularly harrowing event was the arrest and following sentence of Sirius Black (" _ **MASS ATTACK ON MUGGLES, WIZARD MURDERED! SIRIUS BLACK SENT TO AZKABAN**_ ") for blowing up a street full of muggles and killing Peter Pettigrew, just 48 hours after Lily and James' deaths. It was a heavy blow to everyone who had known the two former friends at school, and who weren't aware that Sirius had been the Secret Keeper and betrayed The Potters before the event.

A few days after that, an even more horrific act- considered to be the worst crime of all by the general public- was committed. Frank and Alice Longbottom, well-known and respected Aurors. . . tortured into insanity by a group of Death Eaters; thought to be an act of vengeance for having lost their master. Their son, Neville, orphaned and sent to be with his grandmother. Frank and Alice bound to live in St Mungo's for the rest of their lives.

Minerva was in stunned disbelief when she read the morning edition of _The Daily Prophet,_ and her hands shook as she placed the newspaper back down on the table. All around her, the Great Hall was filled with murmuring students, many of them with pale faces, which were mirrored by her fellow professors. Pomona Sprout had her hand over her mouth, Flitwick was staring at his copy of the paper with his eyes wide and round, and a few of the teachers were close to tears. Dumbledore himself looked graver than she had seen since The Potters' murders, his brow furrowed. Even the whole thing with Sirius Black had been something he had expected. Harry, of course, who was sitting between them as had become customary, had no idea what was going on. He seemed to have sensed that it was upsetting, though, because he was barely making a sound, and was looking at the adults around him with a strange expression on his face.

'I can't believe it,' whispered Minerva. 'Frank and Alice, oh, I can't believe it!'

Dumbledore reached across the table and slowly patted her hand, and Minerva found she didn't quite know what to say next. It was so _horrible_. Like Lily and James, she had known Frank and Alice while they were at school, and she'd always had a soft spot for them. Now four of her favourite past students had gone in the space of two weeks, and many more had been lost during the war. It was still hard to believe how much had changed. . .

The Potters' funeral was held nearly a month after Voldemort's defeat and their deaths. It was a short, private event held in the graveyard of St Jerome's Church in Godric's Hollow, though many people from the public had wanted to attend. James and Lily's school friends and teachers were there, including Remus Lupin. He stood, a little away from everyone else, observing quietly as a pair of officials lowered the coffin holding both his friends' bodies into the ground, and as a headstone was placed above the ground.

How could he have missed it? How could they not have realised earlier that it had all been Sirius, that _he_ had been the one leaking information to Voldemort? Remus was no fool- he knew Lily and James had partially suspected him because of his ties to the werewolves- but he wished they'd all paid more attention to Sirius. It seemed so obvious, now that he was able to look back, that Sirius would be the one to turn dark. His parents had supported Voldemort, his brother was a Death Eater. . . How could they have overlooked it?

And Peter _, poor_ Peter. Remus hadn't been as close to him, perhaps, as he had been to James and Sirius ( _Black!_ he corrected himself nastily), but they had been friends. _Brothers._

And now he was all alone.

Remus wandered closer to the grave, where he stood and stared at the icy ground below his feet. _James- Lily- I'm so, so sorry. . ._ It was still so hard to believe that they were gone, so hard to believe that while it was all over for most people, a new terror had only just begun for him. He felt- more than heard- footsteps approaching behind him and turned to face them, and wasn't surprised to see Dumbledore standing there, with Professor McGonagall by his side. In his arms was a little toddler wearing a thick jacket.

'Harry,' choked Remus, catching sight of him. He hadn't seen the baby in so long, not for months. . . He reached out his arms, and Dumbledore handed him over. Harry snuggled into Remus' chest as the man squeezed him tightly.

'Remus,' said Dumbledore. 'How are you?'

The werewolf lowered his head, and seemed to be swallowing thickly. 'As well as could be expected, Professor,' he croaked out.

Harry made a small noise and squirmed in Remus' arms. 'Em!'

'You are not well.' Dumbledore reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. 'Are you certain-'

'Yes,' said Remus shortly. 'I'm- I'm managing. . .'

He put Harry on the ground, and Harry toddled over to the headstone above his parents' grave and placed both his hands on the white marble, a puff of air blowing out of his mouth. It was very cold. Remus looked away from him and turned back to Dumbledore. 'Th-thank you, Professor. Thank you for looking after him. I know- I know he's happy at Hogwarts.'

'Remus. . .' Dumbledore paused for a few seconds, then nodded his head. 'You can come and see him, anytime. You are the one that knows him the best out of us. Lily and James would've wanted you in his life.'

Remus nodded back slowly. 'He- he's grown up so much. He can _walk_ now. . .'

Remus had never been much of a baby person, but he'd known Harry since he was born, had watched him learn the simplest things children needed to learn, and his birth had been a symbol of hope, giving them all a reason to live. Especially Lily and James. . .

They all turned to watch Harry, who still had his palms pressed against the headstone.

'Dah!' he babbled. 'Mah!'

And then he began to cry. Perhaps he knew now, that his parents weren't going to come back. Realised that they hadn't just gone away for a while, and that he really wasn't ever going to see them again. Minerva swept him up into her arms and held him close, as Dumbledore turned to Remus and put a hand on his shoulder again. 'You are always welcome, Remus.'

'Thank you, Professor,' whispered Remus. And with that, the three figures apparated away.

It was only when December came along that the Wizarding World began to feel normal again, and life returned to being stable. Most- if not all- known Death Eaters had been captured and sent to Azkaban, the Ministry had caught its footing again and was operating properly, people were starting to trust and feel safe again, and the war and Voldemort's reign was steadily becoming a part of the past. . . a part of history that none of them would ever forget.

* * *

A/N: Hello! From now on the story will move a bit quicker, going through little snippets and scenes of Harry's life growing up at Hogwarts (in chronological order). So I suppose the chapters will be shorter, but they will be posted regularly and there will be more of them.

I hope the story's been enjoyable so far and not too boring. Please review- I love feedback! And thanks for reading :)


	6. Chapter 6: No Bath!

**Chapter 6: No Bath!**

It had been 6 months since Harry had arrived at Hogwarts.

6 months of being the part-time carer of a toddler.

And for Minerva McGonagall, it didn't seem to be getting any easier.

* * *

6th Year student Olivia Roberts wandered through the 5th Floor corridors on her way to the Charms classroom for her third class of the day, humming slightly as she hitched her school bag further up her shoulder. It was a Friday- Friday the 19th of April, to be exact- and so Olivia was naturally quite happy. Soon it would be the weekend, and she would be able to relax in her common room with her friends, who were currently in the Hospital Wing getting some Pepperup potion from Madam Pomfrey. . .

* * *

Harry Potter was generally a well-behaved child. He had, in the end, taken the death of his parents as well as could be expected for a 15-month-old, and had very quickly warmed up to Dumbledore (who he was now calling 'Abu') and Minerva. He didn't complain much, or start crying in the middle of the Great Hall during breakfast.

But when Harry decided he didn't want something, he meant it.

And right now, what he didn't want was a bath.

'Harry,' said Minerva sternly. The boy was running around all over the bathroom next to Dumbledore's bedroom, which included a large bathtub in one corner that was now filled with (currently) blue soapy water. Minerva would've thought any child would love to take a bath in bubbly water that changed colour every few minutes- especially when that also included a few floating bath toys- but apparently Harry wasn't that way.

Perhaps, though, it was because it was rather early for a bath- or at least, the usual allocated bath-time for Harry, which was after dinner.

' _Harry!_ It's _bath_ time! Stop this running about!' Minerva cried as Harry rushed between her legs, giggling madly. In a split second, he had vanished from the room. Minerva brought a hand up to her face and sighed.

* * *

A high-pitched laugh broke her distracted humming. Olivia stopped in her tracks, surprised, and a second later nearly-two-year-old Harry Potter came running around the corner wearing only a nappy and banged straight into her- sending one of her Charms books flying into the air. Before he could continue running past her, Olivia crouched down next to the dazzled toddler and put her arms over his shoulders.

Ever since Harry Potter had begun to live at Hogwarts the previous year, after he had defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and the war had ended, Olivia had watched him from afar. He was a funny child, interesting. And not just because he was The-Boy-Who-Lived. Well. . . that _was_ rather fascinating in itself, but it was more because he was a baby. A _baby_ at Hogwarts! It was strange. Olivia had never imagined that she'd be seeing a one year old nearly every day. And Harry Potter was _everywhere._ He would sit with the teachers at the High table for nearly every meal of the week, he would occasionally be spotted being carried or walking around the castle and its grounds, and he would sometimes manage to escape from Professor Dumbledore or one of the other teachers whose turn it was to watch him and appear in a classroom! Olivia herself had been there during that legendary moment several months previously when he had suddenly shown up in the middle of Potions. . . the look on Professor Snape's face had been priceless!

Olivia peered at the currently-standing-in-front-of-her Harry Potter, smiling.

'What's up, Harry?'

'No bawth,' said the little boy. 'Don' wan bawth.'

'Really?' said Olivia, stifling a giggle. 'But baths. . . well. . . baths are good! They keep you clean.'

'No.' said Harry stubbornly. It was rather adorable. He made to run, but she grabbed the squealing toddler and held him tightly in her arms as he struggled to free himself.

'Come on- Harry- where-' She began, but stopped when she heard footsteps coming closer down the corridor. Seconds later, Professor McGonagall, of all people, had arrived.

'Miss Rober- _there you are Harry!'_

Her hair was tied up in its customary bun, but a few strands hung loosely around her face, and her sleeves were rolled up. She looked more, more _casual_ than Olivia had ever seen her. It was odd, even though she _was_ one of the people that spent the most time with Harry.

'Sorry, Professor,' she said, holding the baby out to her. 'He just-'

'Yes, yes, I know-' said Professor McGonagall distractedly, taking Harry from her. 'Thank you, Miss Roberts, and ten points to Ravenclaw.'

'Oh, well, um, it's okay-' Olivia started to say, but she was interrupted when Harry yelled loudly. Professor McGonagall gave her a fleeting look before turning around and hurrying down the corridor as Harry bawled 'No bawth, no bawth!' over and over again at the top of his lungs, his small red face peering over her shoulder.

Olivia grinned, gave him a small wave, and picked up her Charms book.


	7. Chapter 7: The Lake

**Chapter Seven: The Lake**

The students had all gone home for the summer holidays, and so the castle was mostly empty. Only a few teachers chose to stay behind, as many had families of their own that they returned to when not teaching during the term. Professor McGonagall was one of them of course, as was Professor Dumbledore- and they had stayed at Hogwarts for a very good reason.

Harry Potter.

'We swim! We go sweeem!' sang Harry as he jumped towards the little beach next to the edge of the Black Lake. The warm July sun shone down on them, making the grass sparkle as though it were made of silver, and a cool breeze ruffled Harry's dark hair- if possible causing it to stick up even more than usual. 'Swim!'

Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall walked a little behind him, watching with bemused faces as he stopped next to the water and stuck his bare feet in, stepping back with a squeal as he realised it was cold.

'You are going to swim,' corrected Minerva, sitting down on the grass by the edge of the sand- well, more of a lightly-coloured dirt. 'I shall stay right here. But perhaps Albus might like to join you?'

'Who, me?' said Albus, gazing up in surprise from a small yellow caterpillar that had made its way onto his finger.

'Yes, you! Yes, you!' cried Harry. 'Pwease, Ah-bus!'

'Hmm, not today Harry. I too, would rather remain dry. But come, I'll put some warming charms on you so that the water isn't too cold.' He waved his wand over Harry's body- already with bathers on- and Harry felt a warm sensation flow down from his bare shoulders down to the tip of his toes.

'Oooh!' he said, running back to the water and splashing it with his arms. 'Not cold!'

'That's right,' said Minerva. 'Now you can play. But don't go too far in.'

And so Harry played. He watched a few silver fish as they swam by, and grabbed fistfuls of sandy dirt and small round stones which he took great delight in throwing as far as he could into the water, giggling. Albus and Minerva talked about the start of term and a new school year in a few months' time, what was currently going on in the Ministry, and Harry's upcoming birthday. The previous year they had had a simple celebration, as Harry had been too young to understand much of what was going on, but this month he would be turning three.

After a while, the two professors noticed a disturbance in the water several metres away from where Harry was. It seemed like something- or many things- were moving about under the surface, occasionally causing ripples and small splashes. Minerva raised her eyebrows, wondering what they were, and her question was answered a second later as several heads emerged.

They had flowing green hair, bright yellow eyes, and grey faces that resembled both a human and a fish at the same time. The top halves of their bodies- the parts above the water- were also decorated with what seemed to be necklaces of bones and seaweed.

Merpeople.

Upon seeing them, Harry immediately stopped what he was doing; staring at the strange creatures with shock clearly visible on his face. They were looking at him too with curious expressions- obviously they were not used to seeing a child, and a young one at that, playing in the water. Even the Hogwarts students rarely swam in the lake.

Albus got up from the grass and made his way over to Harry, and the toddler turned to look at him with wide eyes.

'Ah-bus wha is it?'

'They're merpeople, Harry,' said Albus. 'They live underwater, here in the lake.'

Harry went back to watching them, knee deep in the water, as they bobbed up and down. Then Albus made a sort-of screeching sound in his throat, and the merpeople turned their eyes on him. A couple of them made the strange noise in return. They had gotten as close to Harry as possible, and although Harry was in a shallow part of the lake, there was a large drop off a few meters or so in which they were currently swimming.

'Hewwo!' Harry exclaimed, waving a small hand in their direction. One of the merpeople shrieked again, and Harry blinked.

'What did you say to them?' asked Minerva, coming to stand by Albus' side. She had known a colony of merpeople lived in the lake, but had never seen them in person before: as although they respected Albus Dumbledore, they generally avoided dealing with humans.

'A polite greeting,' he replied. 'They are simply curious about Harry.'

'Ah-bus!' Harry cried. The merpeople were turning away, some disappearing under the depths, and the three of them watched as they swam deep into the lake and slowly vanished from view, the surface lying still again. Harry moved forwards as though to go after them, but Albus reached out and took his arm, pulling him gently out of the water.

'No, Harry, they've gone back to their homes in the middle of the lake, now.'

'Wh-why?' asked Harry. He sounded slightly upset, as if he couldn't really believe they had just left him like that.

'Well, they have families too,' said Minerva, crouching down next to him and wrapping him up in a fluffy towel to dry him off. 'And they don't like being above water too much, just like you wouldn't like to be under the water for too long.'

'I wooden't?'

'No, Harry.'

Once he was all dried and had a clean set of clothes on, Minerva took his hand.

'Now come on, let's go back up to the school. I think there are a few books on merpeople- the things you saw- in the library.'

And so they walked back up to the castle, Harry in between both her and Albus, as the warm sun beat down on their backs, and a small butterfly flittered around their heads before flying higher up into the blue sky.

* * *

A/N: Big thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed, favourited and/or followed this story so far :D

I will be busy over the next week and a bit, but will still try to post the next chapter as soon as possible.


	8. Chapter 8: Hogsmeade

**Chapter 8: Hogsmeade**

The wind howled around the castle, sending gusts of ice sweeping across the grounds, as three figures made their way down to the fairytale village of Hogsmeade. A little boy skipped and jumped through the snow, hands clutching onto the two adults on either side of him, his cheeks flushed with the cold. The snow was deep and thick, and his small boots sunk with every step.

'Look!' said Harry excitedly, pointing at a brightly-lit store as they walked past it. The windows were filled with boxes and displays of bright colours and sweets, chocolates and decorations. 'Look, Howeydukes! Please Albus, please can we go to Howeydukes!'

Albus Dumbledore smiled down at him. Every time they travelled down to Hogsmeade with Harry (which wasn't very often), he would beg- without fail- to go into Honeydukes. Usually, Albus would put his foot down, as there was such a thing as too much sugar, but it was nearing Christmas and they hadn't been to the small village in several months, so perhaps today they could make an exception. . .

'Hmmm, I do believe I need some more lemon drops,' he said. 'My supply seems to be running low, and Mr Flume always keeps an extra stock for me inside. . .'

'Really, Albus-' said Minerva exasperatedly, just as Harry tugged at her hand and screamed 'yay!', his small four-year-old face radiating excitement. She let herself be pulled along, and a few seconds later the three of them were stepping inside the store, a blast of warmth hitting them as soon as they passed through the door.

Harry's eyes immediately went wide. It _had_ been a while since he had been inside Honeydukes, and he couldn't believe what he was seeing. The store was packed to the brim with people, all eager to do their Christmas shopping, and there were a range of brightly coloured chocolates and sweets everywhere, including a display of Sugar Quills just next to him. Harry reached out and took a small box, turning around and showing it to Minerva.

'Please, Aunt Minnie, can I have this?'

Minerva took the purple-coloured box from him. 'Sugar Quills? I thought the Chocolate Frogs were your favourite, Harry.'

'No!' said Harry, shaking his head. 'I like _sugaw gwills_ now!'

'Alright then, but only this one box.'

They went over to the counter, where Albus was speaking to Mrs Fume, one of the owners. Harry peered over the wooden countertop as Minerva placed the Quill box down.

'Hello dear,' said Mrs Fume, momentarily pausing her conversation with Albus to smile at Harry, who returned the gesture back rather shyly. Then she rummaged under the counter for a bit before bringing out several clear bags of lemon drops.

'Here you go, Dumbledore, fresh batch and all!'

'Thank Ambrosius for me,' said Albus pleasantly, taking out a small money pouch and handing Mrs Fume a couple of galleons. Once everything had been paid for they walked out of the shop- Harry once again holding their hands and skipping between them.

Further up the road, the door to the Three Broomsticks was wide open, but no heat seemed to escape out onto the street. They entered- after all, it was the main reason they had come down to Hogsmeade in the first place, as it always seemed to be- and Madam Rosmerta immediately went up to greet them.

'Hello Albus, Minerva.'

She crouched down so that she was eye-level with Harry, smiling at him as she wiped her hands clean on a hand towel. 'And hello, Harry.'

'Hello!' said Harry, bouncing up and down. The three of them were regulars at the pub and had been going there since Harry was little, but they hadn't been there in a while, and it was always nice to see the bubbling toddler.

'And how old are you now, Harry?' asked Madam Rosmerta.

Harry thought for a moment, his face scrunched up as he tried to remember, and then yelled out 'Fee!'

Rosmerta laughed and led them over to a small table, where Harry was set on a taller chair than the others so that he could see over the top. The rest of the pub was pleasantly quiet, with only a few other people sitting at tables and benches further in, and none of them paid them any attention. 'I'll get you a nice hot chocolate,' said Rosmerta, winking at Harry. Then she turned to the older witch and wizard; 'And what will you two be having today?'

'Mmm, perhaps some mead,' said Albus.

'Some Gillywater, please.'

Rosmerta nodded and went off to prepare their orders. Albus took out the box of Sugar Quills and handed one to Harry, who immediately began sucking on it with glee. A few minutes later there was a tinkle of a bell near the door, and Minerva turned her head as somebody else entered the pub. He was a tall figure, wearing an elegant dark cloak, and long blonde hair fell down around his shoulders.

'Ah. Lucius,' said Albus, spotting him. The Malfoy patriarch glanced at them for a few seconds, as if making up his mind, before slowly approaching their table. 'Dumbledore,' he said civilly. 'McGonagall.'

His eyes fell on Harry.

'And this. . . must be _Harry Potter._ '

Harry stared up at him, his green eyes wide, and didn't say a word.

'Yes,' answered Minerva. 'This is _Harry._ '

Malfoy's lips curled into a slight smile. 'Pleased to meet you, Mr Potter.'

There was a short pause.

'What brings you here, Lucius?' said Dumbledore. His voice was cheerful- amicable- but Minerva could see he was frowning slightly.

'I do not think it is of any regard to you, Dumbledore,' Malfoy replied curtly. 'But if you must know, I am here on several important errands. Good-day,' he nodded at them again, then turned around- his cloak swishing behind him. Harry looked from Minerva to Albus, a puzzled look on his face, and they turned back to him, Albus smiling reassuringly.

Neither of them noticed Lucius' cold grey eyes watching them from the shadows.

* * *

A/N: This one was a bit hard to write! Also, I _should_ start to say that I do not own Harry Potter, and that anything you recognise was created by J.K Rowling.

Please read and review :)


	9. Chapter 9: Asking Questions

_A/N: I am not Harry Potter, and I do not own JK Rowling ;)_

* * *

 **Chapter 9: Asking Questions**

Harry lay curled up in bed, clutching his toy dragon and watching as tiny white-blue stars glittered and sparkled above him.

Albus had charmed the ceiling so that it looked like the sky at night several months previously when Harry had moved from his toddler bed to a big kid's bed. Other parts of his room had changed too; there was no carpet, no changing table, no baby things like there had been when he'd first come to Hogwarts. Those hadn't been around for years now.

Instead there was a small bookshelf filled with children's books- both for Muggles and wizards, and toys were scattered all around the room: a model of a plane Albus and Aunt Minnie had given him for his last birthday when he'd turned four, which moved and started flying around whenever Harry told it to; a set of colourful marbles (Albus had said _no_ to Gobstones until he was a bit older); a toy broom, which was rather small and only rose three or four meters off the ground, but it was all Harry needed; a mini potioneer's kit, which was very basic and made easy little potions that changed someone's hair color for 5 minutes and created harmless explosions. . .

He couldn't sleep.

Harry sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes. A sliver of moonlight shone in through the two large windows, creating strange shadows on the floor and letting him see the outlines of the things in his room. Harry had been trying hard to feel sleepy for what seemed like hours, but he just wasn't tired, and it didn't make any sense. It wasn't as if he hadn't had an exciting day! Harry had spent the entire afternoon playing outside, running about all over the grounds and watching as Hagrid carried some giant pumpkins he had been growing for months up to the Great Hall to decorate it for Halloween. He should have been _dropping_ from sleep, yet he wasn't.

And to top it off, every time he _seemed_ to be about to fall asleep, a bright green flash would light up his vision. He didn't know where it came from, because he had no memory of ever seeing it before, yet it felt like he should. Like it was important.

Harry pushed himself off the bed and made his way out of his room and onto the landing. Yellowish light shone up from the office. Harry could hear the familiar sound of Albus' many odd contraptions whirling and ticking down below. He padded to the stairs and went down them slowly, his bare feet barely making a sound on the wooden steps.

'Harry?'

It was Albus, sitting at his large desk in the centre of the office with a quill and rolls parchment out in front of him. The man looked up when Harry reached the foot of the stairs, and Harry stopped in his tracks, startled.

'I can't sleep,' he said in a small voice, so quietly Albus barely heard him.

'Oh?' Albus got up from the desk and went over to Harry, putting a hand on his shoulder. 'What is it, Harry? It's very late.'

Harry usually didn't have any problem falling asleep. His bedtime was generally around 8 o'clock at night, and he'd never complained about it (except on rare occasions such as his birthday, when all he wanted to do was stay up until midnight).

'I- I don't know. . .' Harry sounded slightly upset. 'Albus. . .'

'Alright, Harry.' Albus took his hand and they went back upstairs. Once in Harry's room, Harry crawled under the covers and Albus sat down next to him, leaning against the headboard.

'Did you have a nightmare?'

'I don't know. . .' Harry said again. There was a short pause. 'Albus. . . wh-where are mummy and daddy?'

He wasn't sure why he'd asked the question. Albus and Minnie had told him lots of times before, but-

'They're gone Harry, you know that,' replied Albus softly.

'Y-yes. . .' Harry trailed off. 'But- but wha' happened to dem? _Really?_ '

Albus gently put his arm around Harry's shoulders and Harry drew closer, once again holding onto his dragon, and rested his head on Albus' chest. He had never really explained to Harry what exactly had happened on that night exactly 3 years ago. Before, Harry had been too young- not ready to know the story, even a very simple and edited version of it, and the subject was always painful to talk about. Now though, and with Harry directly posing the question. . .

Albus closed his eyes.

'Would you like me to tell you a story?'

Harry looked at him, slightly unsure. '. . . okay.'

And so he began.

'Well. . . Once upon a time, there lived a man and a woman called Lily and James, who decided to get married and be together, because they cared for each other very much. And shortly after that, they had a little baby boy who they named Harry James Potter.'

'Me!' cried Harry. 'Albus, das' me!'

'Yes,' said Albus, smiling sadly. 'But let me continue. They had a little baby called Harry, who they loved more than anything else in the world. . . but one day, a bad wizard came. I've told you before, Harry, how there used to be a lot of fighting when you were younger. You remember that, don't you?'

Harry nodded slowly, face scrunched up into a small frown.

'Yes, and this particular wizard, he was the one fighting on the _bad_ side, and he didn't like Lily and James or their little baby Harry because they were on the _good_ side.'

'He didn't like me?' whispered Harry.

'No, Harry. He didn't. There were a lot of people he didn't like. But on one Halloween night, he came to your house- where you used to live, and-'

'And he made mummy and daddy go!'

Albus paused for a second. 'Yes. He made them go. A bad wizard called Voldemort.'

'But not me?'

'No, Harry, not you.'

'Vowdemot. . .'

'Yes, that was his name. Lord Voldemort. Never be afraid to say his name, Harry.'

'And he made dem go. . . forever?'

'Yes, Harry, forever. But your parents are still with you. In here,' he touched the area above Harry's heart gently. 'And _we_ are here. Minerva and I. We took care of you after your parents were gone. We still do.'

Harry was nodding again, but Albus wasn't sure how much he had understood. He hugged Harry tighter to him, remembering when he had first rescued him from Godric's Hollow, and brought him to Hogwarts, and then seen him grow up from a 15-month-old baby to a four-year-old boy. Harry had been with them for three years now, three whole years.

It was incredible how fast time had flown by.

'Do you think you can go to sleep, now?' Albus asked Harry after a few minutes of silence. The answer came in the form of several slow, deep breaths. Smiling slightly, Albus got up from the bed and positioned Harry's head gently onto the pillow- careful not to wake him up- then went and stood in the doorway, looking back at the sleeping child in the bed.

'Goodnight, Harry.'

* * *

 _A/N: Thank you for reading, and please review if you can! I really appreciate it :)_


	10. Chapter 10: Snape

A/N: I ɐɯ uoʇ ſʞ ɹoʍlᴉuƃ' ɐup I po uoʇ oʍu Hɐɹɹʎ Ԁoʇʇǝɹ

 **Chapter 10: Snape**

It was a hot, early summer's day in June. The sun beat down heavily on the grounds around Hogwarts, and the inside of the castle was no different. Despite the many cooling charms students and teachers alike had been casting all afternoon, nothing seemed to be making much of a difference, and everybody was finding it hard to stay focused on school work.

'Today we will be continuing our transfiguring of ravens into water goblets,' began Professor McGonagall at the start of her fourth-period class, observing the tittering Second Year students in front of her with a stern look. Nobody was paying her much attention, preferring instead to sit slumped at their desks whilst fanning each other with rolls of parchment and books, but Minerva really couldn't blame them. It was hot, everybody was tired, and it would soon be the weekend.

'The method is on pages 112-118,' she continued, casting her third cooling charm of the hour to try in vain to lower the temperature around her. 'I shall begin handing out the ravens once-'

'Aunt Minnie!' came a loud cry from outside. Minerva paused mid-speech and all the students immediately twisted around in their chairs to face the door- looking much more alert- just as Harry Potter burst through it and ran up to the front of the classroom on his small legs, burying his face into Minerva's robes.

There was a stunned silence as the students processed this, then everyone began laughing until, with a wave of her wand, Minerva called attention and ordered the class to be quiet. She crouched down next to Harry, frowning slightly at him.

'What is it, Harry?'

'I had a nightmare,' he said slowly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Minerva paused. When she had left Harry up in the office after lunch, he had been sitting at a desk practising his reading; she and Albus had gotten him started several weeks previously with a few simple muggle books so that he could slowly start learning the basics.

'You fell asleep?'

Harry nodded, his eyes wide.

'How did you- nevermind.' Minerva had long ago stopped questioning how Harry constantly managed to escape the gargoyles guarding the office, or how he always seemed to know where she was in the castle. She would have called it some sort of maternal instinct on Harry's part, perhaps, but she was not his mother- even though she had cared for him since he was little over a year old. She sighed, brushing Harry's sweaty hair out of his eyes- though she hated leaving his small but noticeable scar exposed to everyone- and pointed her wand at the door: a silver, misty figure of a cat- neither a solid nor a gas- appeared in the air and hovered as though awaiting instructions.

'Send Professor Snape over here, please,' said Minerva, and the class watched transfixed as the cat gave a small nod and rushed at the wall behind the desk- passing right through the stone and disappearing.

Several short minutes later, Severus Snape was striding through the door of the classroom, looking as though he'd accidentally swallowed a rather unpleasant potion and was trying his hardest to maintain an impassive exterior.

'You called?' he said sourly, reaching the front of the class.

'Ah, Severus!' cried Minerva. 'Would you be so kind as to take Harry back up to his room? I recall you had a free period now, and-'

Snape shot her a furious look. Minerva smiled sweetly, knowing he couldn't refuse, and he scowled.

'Certainly, _Minerva,'_ Snape muttered through gritted teeth, glancing at Harry, who was staring up at him wearily. 'Come along, Potter.'

Harry shuffled his feet, uncertain.

'Go on Harry, it'll be okay,' urged Minerva. 'Go with Professor Snape. I'll see you later.'

And so Harry followed him out the door.

* * *

'Po-fessor Snape?' said a small voice behind him. Snape ignored it, for now. Even at just four-years-old, the boy was an insufferable creature. _Nothing_ had changed since he'd been a baby, nothing at all. It was unbelievable.

'Po-fessor Snape!?' The voice said again a few seconds later, this time with more urgency.

'What?' growled Snape, spinning around.

'I-' Harry looked uncomfortable- he was holding at the gap between his legs, and seemed to wilt underneath the professor's glare.

'Spit it out, child!'

'I need to _pee.'_

Snape sighed dramatically and silently cursed Minerva McGonagall for all she was worth.

'Fine. Follow me this way.' he told him. They hurried through another corridor for a few minutes, before reaching one of the bathrooms on the fourth floor.

'In here, Potter!' The boy gave him a quick look, then slowly went inside and the wooden door closed. It was quiet for a few minutes, save for the sound of running water. Then-

 _BANG!_

 _CRASH!_

'Ahhhhhhh!'

'What the-?' Snape burst into the empty bathroom, glancing around wildly, and found Harry Potter sitting in a puddle of water, clutching at his knee and sobbing.

'It hurts! Owwwww it hurts!'

'Potter- what- Potter! What happened?' yelled Snape- probably a bit more roughly than he should've, considering the boy was _obviously_ hurt and had _obviously_ slipped. _What idiotic buffoon left an entire_ lake's worth _of water on the ground?_

'It w-eally hurts!' The boy had tears streaming down his face, and was whimpering pathetically.

'Stop this crying _at once_ , Potter. I _assure you_ that you are perfectly fine.'

'Nooooooooo!'

Snape knew he'd regret his next move for the rest of his miserable existence, but with a heavy sigh and a glare which was directed at the mass of water, he picked up the crying child in his arms and began making his way to the Hospital Wing- _not that bloody Potter needed any medical attention._ It was a long walk there, and although the boy wasn't heavy, by the time they reached the 5th-floor corridor Snape's arms and legs were burning.

 _At least there weren't any students around, at least the little brats were in classes-_

'Weasley!'

Twelve-year-old Bill Weasley froze in his tracks, staring opened-mouthed at the sight in front of him. Snape- Snape was there. Snape was _wet._ And he was carrying. . . _Harry Potter?_

Bill quickly closed his mouth.

Snape looked murderous. The unbearable heat all day, coupled with having to carry Harry Potter in the middle of the school _and_ then being spotted by a student, was starting to take its toll on him. Seething, he managed to snap; 'Good-day, Mr Weasley.'

'Uhh, yeah- I mean, yes sir,' the boy was steadily getting redder and redder, if that was even possible as a Weasley. Well, at least he had the decency to look shameful. Bill hastily began walking again, trying very hard not to make eye-contact. As he passed by his professor, he heard a low growl in his ear.

'Not-one-word-of-this,' hissed Snape. 'To- _anyone_.'

Bill nodded, looking down, and quickened his pace.

True to his word, Bill Weasley never told anyone of the incident, but it would be a long time before Madam Pomfrey stopped telling everyone in the Staff Room just _how_ he had turned up at the Hospital Wing that day, and how _Harry Potter-_ the son of his mortal school enemy- had fallen asleep in his arms as comfortable as if he were in a bed.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading! Please review :)


	11. Chapter 11: Christmas

A/N: A little note on Albus and Minerva. They do not _love_ each other, and they are not partners. They are simply friends, like in the books. Though perhaps _closer_ friends, as they basically raised Harry together and spend much more time in each other's company.

* * *

 **Chapter 12: Christmas**

The fireplace was burning. Orange flames licked at the wooden logs, sending golden sparks into the air, and a great rush of heat blew Harry's hair back.

He was in a room, sitting cross-legged on the floor as he watched the fire. Squishy red armchairs and couches lined the walls, with an old carved coffee table in the middle. Several portraits were also hung up, all of old witches and wizards. It was a room not many people knew about, as it was hidden behind Dumbledore's office. But Harry knew where it was, and so did Minerva and Hagrid and Albus. They spent almost as much time in there as they did in the Great Hall.

Harry turned his head away.

There was a Christmas Tree in one corner, lavishly decorated with snakes of silver tinsel, bright beads of light, golden pine cones, large glittering stars, striped candy canes in every colour. . . Hagrid had been the one to get the tree. He'd brought it all the way from the forest, as well as all the ones for the Great Hall. Harry had even helped him choose one- the _best_ one. It was tall, but not too tall. Harry could nearly reach the top if he stretched his arm high enough.

And under the tree was a pile of Christmas presents. Boxes wrapped in green and yellow and blue and red paper. . . Harry longed to open one- _just one-_ present, but he knew he had to wait until Albus and Minerva woke up. He'd managed to come down the stairs without anybody hearing him, and had spent nearly half an hour watching the flames in the fireplace- which had started up when he entered the room.

Harry remembered last Christmas, even though he'd been a year younger. He'd played in the snow- just like he'd done yesterday, and everybody had eaten a huge feast for dinner, like the one awaiting him later on in the day. Four seemed so little now that he looked back! But Harry was five now, he was bigger and stronger, knew how to read more.

 _And he really couldn't wait!_

* * *

Harry grinned, bouncing up and down on his bare feet. Albus and Minerva sat before him on one of the couches, still in their sleeping robes. A now-empty Christmas stocking lay at his feet, several chocolates and sweets- and even a large orange- strewn around it.

'Can I open them now? Can I?!' Harry squealed, so excited he could barely get the words out.

'Of course, Harry,' said Minerva, smiling at him, and Harry didn't need a second confirmation. He was on the pile of presents under the tree like a lion leaping on its prey.

'Slow down!' Albus chuckled, reaching down and taking a parcel- which he handed to Minerva, eyes twinkling. Harry did, if only slightly, and took a card from one of the presents closest to him.

'What does it say, Albus?' He asked, opening the card and grinning at the moving picture of a gnome trying to ice-skate.

The old wizard smiled at him. 'Why don't you try and read it yourself? See- you already know the first part.'

' _Dear Harry._ That's my name!'

'Yes, it is. What does the rest say?'

Harry scrunched up his nose in concentration, and read. ' _Happy Chr-Christmas! I ho-hope you have a gre-great day, and I w-will see you la-later. Love, Hagr-gr-grid._ Hagrid!'

He took the small box that had come with the card and opened it. Inside was a beautiful flute, carefully carved out of a piece of milky-coloured wood. Harry immediately took it out and gave it a big blow. 'Wow! Look, Albus, look Auntie Minnie! I'm playing _music!'_

The rest of his presents consisted of a pair of special green shoes that would allow Harry to walk on walls, some more chocolate and sweets from Honeydukes, and a giant moving model of a Quidditch pitch. Harry nearly screamed when he saw it. He _loved_ Quidditch- loved watching the older students fly around during matches, loved it when Albus and Aunt Minnie would let him have a go on the smallest school broomsticks. And now he would have a mini Quidditch pitch in his own room- one he would be able to control and navigate and tell some of the players which way to move. He was also amazed by the green shoes and tried them on straight away, climbing a few feet up one of the walls whilst holding Albus' hand.

After all the presents had been opened, and they'd had a quick breakfast of biscuits and milk (in Harry's case), and pieces of toast spread with strawberry jam, Harry went outside to play- all bundled up in his warm winter clothes. He spent the rest of the morning running around in the snow, having snowball fights with a couple of third-year Gryffindors, and later joining Hagrid in his cabin with a warm mug of hot chocolate in his hands- a drooling Fang at his feet.

'Hope yer liked me flute,' said Hagrid, taking a drink from a steaming wooden goblet the size of a football. 'Took me a week ter make it, it did.'

'It was great!' Harry exclaimed excitedly. 'Aunt Minnie taught me how to play a song before! The one about the dragons playing gobstones!'

'Really, eh? I'm impressed!'

'Yes! And she said she's going to teach me a Christmas song next. One like- like-'

' _God Rest Ye, Merry Hippogriffs_?'

'Yeah, like that one!' Harry giggled as Fang lifted up his head and gave him a big lick on the nose. 'Ew, Fang! That's gross!'

* * *

As Harry trudged up the hill back towards Hogwarts with Hagrid an hour or so later, he spotted a figure in the distance coming closer and closer with each step. It took him a few seconds to realise who it was, but when he did he yelled out loud and ran across the lawn, throwing himself into the visitor's arms.

'Uncle Remus!'

Ever since Harry had been little, Remus had been coming to see him multiple times a year. One time they'd even gone out to the _muggle_ world _-_ to a place called a Cinema- where they had watched a _movie_. Harry loved going out with Remus, and hearing all the stories he always told of his parents. But it had been several months since Harry had last seen him, and he had not expected him to come for _Christmas_.

'Hey, Harry.' Remus ruffled the little boy's hair and smiled. 'Nice to see you again.'

They walked back to the castle together, Harry chattering on and on about his day and how he had _nearly_ beat the Gryffindors in the snowball fight, but then he'd fallen over into a mound of deep snow and they'd had to pull him out by both arms. . .

Hagrid was waiting next to the large front doors of the castle, and beamed at Remus when he saw them approaching.

'Remus, Remus! Are you staying for dinner?' Harry asked, pulling him through the doorway and into the Entrance Hall. 'We're going to have turkey! And potatoes! And pudding!'

'Of course, Harry.'

* * *

The Great Hall was beautiful. That was the only way to describe it. Harry had seen it before, of course, but it was another thing altogether to walk in on Christmas day, hand in hand with Remus and Albus, and Minerva and Hagrid on the other side. Twelve large Christmas trees had been decorated and placed around the hall, large yellow candles floated above their heads, and a long wooden table sat in the centre- golden goblets and plates and cutlery laid out neatly on top.

Many of the students had gone away for the holidays, and only a few remained to share the feast: three Ravenclaws, two Hufflepuffs, another two Slytherins, and four Gryffindors. They were already sitting around the table, chatting with each other happily. The Staff staying at the school were also there. Albus sat down at the head of the table, and Harry climbed into the next seat along, with Remus next to him and Minerva opposite. Overall, the total headcount reached twenty-three people.

Food appeared once everyone was seated- dishes appearing along the middle of the table in between plates: massive bowls of roast and mashed potatoes, jars of gravy and bread sauce and cranberry sauce, plates of cabbage and carrots and Brussel sprouts and as many other vegetables imaginable, slices of glazed ham. . . and right in the middle- on a giant golden platter- a steaming Christmas turkey, decorated with a perfect cherry on top.

There were also crackers, which everybody took turns in pulling. Harry handed one to Remus, and they both tugged on their respective end as hard as they could-

 _BANG!_

Blue smoke filled the table, and everything that had been held inside exploded out and rained down on them. Chocolates and caramels; tiny golden snitches no bigger than a fingernail; moving miniature figures of famous witches and wizards; paper hats in every colour; a pack of luminous balloons; several black and white chess pieces; real _live_ mice that scuttered away with a squeak. . . Harry saw Professor Snape take a cracker with Albus, a sour look on his face, and laughed when a bright-purple sleeping hat fell on top of his head. Hagrid looked rather red; Professor Sprout was giggling madly at something in her food; the two Slytherins were having a mini sword fight with their forks while a Hufflepuff watched on, intrigued. . .

Harry hadn't had very many Christmases, and he certainly couldn't remember half of them, but even so- as he finished eating his dessert (a large slice of treacle tart) a few hours later- he thought this one had to be the best one of all.

* * *

A/N: Please read and review :D


	12. Chapter 12: Hufflepuff

A/N: Hello. Sorry this one was a little late. Though I don't really have an 'official' schedule, I do seem to be posting a chapter roughly at the end of each week.

Can anybody reading this story speak Spanish? I'm just curious, as I can speak Spanish too :D

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and I am not JK Rowling.

* * *

 **Chapter 12: Hufflepuff**

Harry was frustrated.

He had been wandering through torch-lit corridors for what seemed like _ages,_ but he was still no closer to finding where the Kitchens were, and he was starting to get tired of walking.

It had all started the previous day during dinner, when Harry had suddenly wondered where all the food that always appeared on top of the tables in the Great Hall came from. Surely nobody _cooked_ the food, or Harry would've met them at some point during the holidays, when most of the students went home, or maybe on their days off. But food couldn't make _itself,_ could it? That was impossible. And Harry knew that witches and wizards couldn't create food with their wands, either, because it was against one of the rules of magic (he wasn't sure which one, but he definitely knew it couldn't happen). So _where_ did the food come from, and _how_ was it made?

After pondering this in silence for a few minutes, Harry had remembered that Albus was sitting right next to him, eating his way through a pudding, and had promptly turned to him and asked. The answer had turned out to be quite simple, but something Harry would never have thought of before, and made his eyes widen when he was told.

There was a kitchen- or multiple kitchens- directly underneath the Great Hall, where a large staff of Hogwarts house-elves worked and cooked the food. Harry was amazed, and immediately wanted to go there. But it was late, close to his bedtime, and Albus and Aunt Minnie hadn't let him go anywhere.

Today was a different day altogether, though, and Harry had spent most of the morning trying to find the kitchens to no avail. He didn't even know where they were, only that they were _down_ somewhere, close to the dungeons. He had asked Albus, of course, but he had only winked at Harry and simply said that sometimes one had to find things out for themselves.

Harry wasn't hungry by any means. He had eaten breakfast mere hours ago. But he _really_ wanted to find the Kitchens. The more time he spent _not_ finding them, the more he wanted to.

Increasing his step in a sudden bout of confidence, Harry rushed around a corner, before coming to an abrupt stop. There, directly ahead of him, was a pile of wooden barrels. It was the most interesting thing he'd seen in the past fifteen minutes (other than a few paintings of talking trees), and after a few seconds of pause, Harry quickly reached them. There were about five in total, stacked on top of each other, and looked to be completely normal. Harry knew, from five years of living at Hogwarts, that things that _looked_ ordinary were more often than not the exact opposite.

 _Maybe this is the way to go inside the Kitchens,_ Harry thought. _A secret way that nobody else knows about!_ Harry reached out and tried to move one of the barrels, but he wasn't very strong, and none of them would budge. He gave one a small kick, but that only made his foot hurt. He tapped the side of one of the top barrels with his fingers, like it was some sort of drum, and then-

'Aghhhhhh!'

A clear, slightly-yellowish liquid came suddenly from nowhere, squirting him in the middle of the face. Harry stumbled back and toppled to the ground, shocked. The liquid was runny, smelly, and stung his eyes. Whatever it was, It was _horrible,_ and Harry completely forgot about his quest to find the Kitchens. It _hurt!_ Trying not to cry, Harry stood back up.

'Potter?'

Harry's head turned. A group of about seven older students were approaching- fifth years, perhaps, and all of them were wearing Hufflepuff robes. One of the students saw his face, and immediately exclaimed; 'He's been squirted!'

She took out her wand and pointed it at Harry, and before he could open his mouth to say anything, all traces of the liquid were gone. Harry blinked, and as the large group reached him, they immediately started talking.

'What's he doing here?'

'Must've tried to enter our common room, which is why he was covered in vinegar. . .'

'I've never seen that happen to _anyone_ before!'

'He could be a spy!'

'Whatcha doing here, Potter?' asked a tall brown-haired boy, raising his eyebrows in a questioning gesture that looked rather comical.

'I- I don't know. . .' Harry began. 'I was jus' trying to find the kitchens, and then- then I got _sprayed_! I'm not a spy, I promise!'

One of the students scoffed. 'Of course you're not a spy, you're _Harry Potter!'_

'Yeah, look at him, he's only a kid!'

'Isn't he _six_ or something now?'

'One of the Slytherins could've sent him-'

'Come off it! A _Slytherin!?'_

'Where am I?' Harry spoke up. 'Is there something behind those. . . tubs? Is it the way into the Kitchens?' His voice rose in excitement as he finished the sentence.

The girl who had cleared his face of the liquid- the _vinegar-_ laughed.

'Barrels,' she corrected him. 'And no, it isn't the entrance to the Kitchens. This is the Hufflepuff Common Room!'

'Wow!' Harry exclaimed. His mind whirled. He knew where the Gryffindor Common Room was- of course- as that's where he wanted to go as soon as he was old enough, and he knew that the Slytherin Common Room was down in the cold dungeons near where Professor Snape stayed and the Ravenclaw Common Room in one of the towers, but he had never found out where the Hufflepuffs lived.

'Is that why they squirted me? Gryffindor has a password and Ravenclaw has a hard question you have to answer and I think Slytherin has a password as well. . . don't you have a password?'

They were all starting at him now.

'No. . .' said another girl. 'We just have to tap out a rhythm-'

' _Sarah!'_ interrupted one of her friends. 'You can't tell him! He's not a Hufflepuff!'

'Well, it's not like it'll do any harm, right?'

'Maybe we should let him in, show him around. . .'

'I reckon we should!'

'Have you forgotten it's _Harry Potter?'_

'He doesn't have a house yet, though, what if-?'

'He _might_ be a Hufflepuff!'

'Look, he's just a kid-'

'I think we should let him in!'

'Yeah, let's show him around. He got this far.'

'Potter?' A rather pale, grinning boy was looking at him.

'Um. . . yeah?' Harry answered shyly.

'Come with us inside the Common Room. If you want, that is. I mean, it would be perfectly fine if you didn't, we don't really mind, but if you feel-'

'Yes please!' Harry cried, jumping up and down. 'Really? I can come in?'

He had never been into any of the Common Rooms. He couldn't believe it!

'Of course, it's no problem. Come on, then.'

The student closest to the barrels started tapping one of them with his wand, and a second later, the one on in the middle began to open. A short tunnel appeared, and Harry gaped at it.

One by one, they dropped down on their knees and crawled through, until it was Harry's turn. He went onto the floor and pushed his way through, following the feet of the person in front of him. A few seconds later, he was standing up and looking around the Hufflepuff Common Room.

The ceiling was low, but not uncomfortably so. It reminded Harry of the drawings of rabbit burrows he had seen in some of his picture books. Windows of several different shapes lined the tops of the walls, letting in streams of warm sunlight that illuminated the whole room in a soft, golden light. Rippling grass and dandelions could be seen through the glass. The walls were round and had an earthy sort of feel. Paintings and portraits hung here and there, including a big portrait of a smiling lady above a large fireplace. Several shiny copper items also decorated the walls and tables strewn against the sides of the room. Everywhere he looked, Harry saw plants. It was incredible. The only other places he had seen this full of them were the Greenhouses. Thick vines crawled up several of the walls, large potted plants that moved even without any wind stood between yellow and black puffy armchairs and couches. A large, spiky plant reached out what looked like an arm and waved at him.

Harry was in awe.

There were students everywhere, spread out over the different furniture, but most didn't pay them much attention, as it was perfectly normal for people to go in and out of the Common Room. Only a few pairs of eyes flickered upwards.

'That's Helga Hufflepuff,' said the tall boy, when he noticed Harry staring at the portrait above the fireplace. 'She was one of the founders of Hogwarts! The best one!'

He puffed up his chest proudly.

'What's a . . . founder?' Harry asked.

'A founder. She was one of the people who _made_ Hogwarts. Who started it up. And then Hufflepuff was named in her honour. The others were Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin.'

'Wow,' Harry said again.

'Those are the ways to the dormitories,' the boy explained, pointing at a pair of round, wooden doors on the far side of the room. 'One door leads to the boys', the other to the girls'. Our dormitories are really nice. The beds come with patched quilts and bed warmers and everything.'

After several more minutes, in which Harry had continued to look around the Common Room room, he had a sudden thought. The Hufflepuffs were in the dungeon part of Hogwarts. And they were older than him. Maybe they could tell him where kitchens were, or take him there!

'Um, excuse me?' Harry spoke up, tugging on the robe of the girl next to him. She turned, smiling.

'Yeah, what is it?'

'Um. . . do you- do you know where the Kitchens are?'

The Hufflepuff blinked.

'Of course I know where they are. We go there all the time. Want us to take you there, too?'

'Yes please!' Harry exclaimed, grinning.

 _Finally_!

* * *

A/N: Please review :)


	13. Chapter 13: Flying and Falling

Disclaimer: I am not J.K Rowling, and I do not own Harry Potter.

* * *

 **Chapter 13: Flying and Falling**

Harry Potter was lots of things.

He was a wizard.

He was seven years old.

And he was curious, funny, and cheeky.

But right now, most importantly, he was bored.

There was a meeting going on in Albus' office. Harry didn't know what it was, or who was there (other than Albus and Aunt Minnie) because nobody had bothered to tell him, but he _did_ know he wasn't allowed to be in his room until it was done.

At first, when Albus had told him after breakfast that he had to spend the morning elsewhere, Harry hadn't really minded. He spent most of his time outside his bedroom anyway. But now, when he wasn't supposed to be there, it suddenly felt all the more appealing. And the meeting had been going on for _hours._

The last meeting Albus had held (if you could call it that), had only lasted a few _minutes_ , and had involved quite a bit of shouting from somebody Harry didn't recognise but sounded very angry.

The only good thing about this meeting they were in now was that the strangers Albus was talking with had arrived after Harry had disappeared off to somewhere else, and so he hadn't been met with anybody staring at his scar or wanting to shake his hand and thank him.

Harry knew he was famous, and knew that most people liked him and considered him a _hero,_ but he hated all the attention. Luckily, everybody except for the First Years each September were already familiar with Harry being at the castle, and so he never received any unwanted attention in his day to day life. And the rare times Harry had been out in the Wizarding World, like when he had visited the Ministry several years previously and the few occasions he had gone to Diagon Alley, the presence of the _Most Powerful Wizard Alive_ and one of the strictest Hogwarts Professors had been enough to keep most people at bay.

Harry shuffled through a corridor on the second floor. He just wanted to _do_ something. Something _fun._ There hadn't been a lot of fun things in the last few weeks, because all of the Hogwarts students had been doing their _exams._ Harry had seen first hand from a distance what they were like, and he never ever wanted to experience them. Sure, he _really_ wanted to grow up a bit more and be sorted into a house (Gryffindor!) and go to all the classes _properly,_ but he didn't want to do any of the exams. . . they were a nightmare! Older students running out of the Great Hall in the middle of dinner whilst yelling hysterically; clumps of tired looking friends huddled together in corners, papers flying everywhere. . .

 _Flying!_

Harry stopped in his tracks. Flying! He- he could go flying! Minerva and Albus didn't really let him go on a broomstick by himself- he always had to be accompanied by an adult. But- but he could just go for a short while. He knew where the school brooms were kept, and nobody would know he had done it, so it wouldn't be a problem, would it? Just for a few minutes?

Making up his mind, Harry sprinted down the Grand Staircase and across the first floor. There weren't a lot of students around, and the ones who were didn't seem to pay any attention to Harry as he rushed past. Oh, yes, the day's exams must be over.

Harry reached the school broom shed. It wasn't locked, as usual. The school brooms were so bad nobody would ever be bothered stealing them. But for Harry they were perfect, and just what he needed. After selecting one of the newest models (which was nearly as old as Harry himself), he went back outside and looked around him. Yes, nobody could see him from where he was, at the back of the castle. The Black Lake stretched out in front of him, dark green water sparkling in the sun. Harry mounted the broom, and with a short laugh kicked off from the ground.

It had been so long since he'd last flown! At least a few months! Harry giggled as he shot across the surface of the lake, at least 10 feet above it. The wind blew his hair all around his face and whipped his clothes about, but he didn't care at all. _It was so much fun!_ He wasn't brave enough to do loops in the air yet, but he did make the broom go up and down a few times, laughing more as he lifted one arm off the wooden handle and raised it in the air. . .

Harry felt himself slipping off the broom.

There was a split moment in which he seemed to be suspended in mid-air, legs and arms flailing. Then he dropped, his remaining hand yanked away, and landed with a loud SPLASH! in the middle of the lake.

It was cold, very cold, and dark. Harry couldn't see anything. He thrashed around, trying to break the surface, but his clothes weighed him down and he knew he was sinking. _No!_ Harry tried to yell, but the sound was muffled completely by the water- all that came out was a loud gurgle and a bunch of bubbles- and he sunk further down into the depths. He couldn't breathe, couldn't see the surface anymore. . . everything was dark. . . he was going to drown. . .

And then he felt a giant slimy arm wrap around his torso- he was being lifted up- and all of a sudden he had broken the surface of the water, and he was thrown onto the grass by the edge of the lake. A few students who had been relaxing on the lawn seconds earlier, relishing the short amount of free time they had, rushed to his side.

'What's up with him?'

'Potter?'

'The Giant Squid, it just threw him right out!'

'Harry!'

'Is he okay!?'

'Did you see that-'

Harry began coughing, bringing up the icy water from the lake. He tried to sit up, but his bones felt like they were made of rocks.

'Where's Professor Dumbledore?' said a voice above him. 'Should we get a teacher?'

'Professor Snape!'

Harry felt groggy and disoriented. He gurgled and some more water spilt out of his mouth. When he opened his eyes, his whole vision swam.

'Potter!' yelled a sharp voice above him. 'What do you think you were doing? Away, all of you!' Snape screeched at the huddling students, who dispersed at once. Harry felt a hand grab his shoulder and he was lifted into a standing position.

'What did you _think_ you were _doing?'_ hissed Snape in his ear. ' _You could have drowned, you foolish boy!'_

Harry didn't respond. He could hardly hear properly- all sounds felt muffled and distant- as if they were far, far away. He burst into tears. Snape growled and pushed Harry roughly up to the castle, then led him through the corridors and straight to the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey looked up from the empty beds she was cleaning when they entered.

'Dear heavens, Severus, what is it this time?'

Snape took a deep breath through his nose, as though trying to calm himself. 'This _idiotic_ child decided to fly over the Black Lake on a _broom_ and fell in. It's a miracle the Giant Squid got to him before he drowned!'

'Dear me,' said Poppy. She took Harry from Professor Snape and sat him down on one of the beds. 'Shh, Harry, can you tell me if you feel funny?'

'I- geh-he-' Harry brought up some more water, coughing violently. Madam Pomfrey pointed her wand at his chest and whispered a spell, and all of a sudden the water was gone, and Harry stopped crying at once, shocked.

'I c-can breathe n-now-' he said shakily.

'Well _obviously_ , Potter,' sneered Snape. 'What did you expect?'

'Shush, Severus, there's no need to belittle him. He's had enough of a scare already.'

She pointed her wand at Harry again, and he was immediately dried by the warm gust of air that blew out of the tip.

'I'm s-sorry!' Harry started up again. 'I didn't mean to fall in the water!'

'Yes, you really shouldn't have,' said Poppy. There was the sound of running footsteps outside the door, and Snape just had time to say 'I called for them-' when Minerva and Albus came hurrying in.

'Harry, are you alright?' gasped Minerva, catching sight of him on the bed, at the same time that Albus went- 'What happened, Severus?'

Snape told them. Harry sniffed.

Albus sighed and sat down on the bed next to Harry. 'You know that wasn't the right thing to do, don't you, Harry?' he said seriously.

'Y-yes A-Albus, I'm s-sorry!' Harry buried his face in the bedsheets. There was a short pause.

'Well, I think you've learnt your lesson the hard way,' said Minerva. 'Come now, Harry, why don't we go back up to the tower? The meeting is all finished.'

Harry slowly wiped his eyes and took Minerva's hand.

'Thank you, Madam Pomfrey,' he said, blinking up at her with those green eyes of his.

'That's alright, Harry, just promise me not to do it again.'

Harry nodded and slid off the bed.

'I promise.'

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading, and please review :)


	14. Chapter 14: A trip to Diagon Alley

Disclaimer: I am not J.K Rowling, and I do not own Harry Potter.

* * *

 **Chapter 14: Diagon Alley**

Harry was nervous, but at the same time excited, as he put on his coat and shoes. For the first time since he could remember, he was going to be going to Diagon Alley with Albus and Aunt Minerva.

He'd gone before, as a baby, but Harry couldn't recall that, and so it didn't really count. This would be his first _real_ time. Albus needed to sort some things out in Gringotts- the bank- and they would also be getting some new casual robes for Harry.

It was a sunny weekend day, still the morning. Albus was hoping to get there as early as possible in order to avoid the crowds of busy witches and wizards that usually shopped at this time of year, less than a month before the first term at Hogwarts was due to start. Harry was grateful that there would be fewer people, because he really didn't like crowds. He knew he was famous, knew that everybody recognised him and thought he was a hero. But he hated the attention. At least, at Hogwarts, people already knew him- except for the first year students each year, but they quickly got used to seeing him around. Nobody stared at him funny, or asked to shake his hand and thank him. That was _weird._ Harry remembered one time he had gone out with Uncle Remus. Even though they had been in the Muggle world, a middle-aged witch had still recognised him. She would've _hugged_ Harry, if Remus hadn't been there to stop her and ask for some space.

It was even stranger that all these witches and wizards sent him mail, too. Albus had a designated room in one of the small towers, and all the owl post from people they didn't know was directed there. Harry sometimes read some of the letters people sent him, if Albus let him, and he enjoyed the gifts some people even sent- as every seven-year-old boy would. But still.

Albus and Minerva stood next to the fireplace behind Albus' desk, at the back of the office, and Harry quickly hurried to their side.

'Are we going by the floo?'

Minerva nodded, smiling at him, and Harry watched as she took a handful of the sparkly green powder. He was relieved. The few times Harry recalled Apparating somewhere had been horrible, and he never wanted to do it again. When green flames lit up the interior of the fireplace, Albus stepped in and calmly said 'Diagon Alley', before disappearing. Harry went in with Minerva holding onto his shoulders. It was safer this way. Once, when Harry had announced proudly that he was old enough to travel through the floo by himself, he had accidentally messed up the location and ended up in Professor _Snape's_ office instead of Aunt Minnie's. And that had been a _test,_ just to prove that he could.

Several confusing seconds later, Harry stumbled out of the fireplace. They were in what looked to be the back of a pub, or some sort of bar- lit up by a low, yellowish light. A nice smell wafted towards Harry, and he immediately thought that this would be a nice place to have breakfast one day. Several people sat around tables, stirring mugs of coffee and chewing on fried sausages- including a woman who looked quite a bit like a hag- but it was mostly quiet. Even so, Harry nervously flattened his hair over his scar to cover it, though it wouldn't have made much of a difference, anyway. Most people in the wizarding world knew he lived at Hogwarts, so the only child travelling with Albus Dumbledore or Professor McGonagall had to be him.

'This is the Leaky Cauldron, Harry,' Albus said, brushing soot from his robes. 'We can go through Diagon Alley this way.'

Harry nodded, and they made their way around a few tables towards a small door. A friendly man wearing a dark cloak stood behind the counter, cleaning several glasses with a dishcloth. He looked up when he saw them passing, grinning.

'Mornin' Dumbledore, Minerva. Fancy seeing you here!'

'Hello, Tom.'

The man- Tom- suddenly seemed to notice Harry. His eyes widened, and he looked to be about to say something when Albus broke in.

'Please, a little discretion, Tom. . .'

'M-my apologies,' Tom stammered quickly. 'Nice meeting you, Mr Potter.'

Harry's cheeks were red. 'Hello. . .' he managed to mumble, before Aunt Minnie steered him to the door. Albus pushed it open, and they stepped into a courtyard outside. It was small, and enclosed with brick walls on all sides. A battered old dustbin sat in a corner.

'Is this Diagon Alley?' Harry asked hesitantly. It didn't look very impressive, unlike everything he had heard about it. His heart sank. He had been excited, to come, but now. . .

Albus chuckled. 'Oh, dear me, no!'

Harry blinked.

'What do you mean?'

'Hmmm. . . Watch this-' Albus took out his wand and tapped one of the bricks on the wall in front of them. Immediately, it started to move. Then more bricks. A gap appeared, and it quickly turned into the size of Harry. Next second, a large archway had formed.

' _This_ is Diagon Alley,' Albus said, indicating forward with a smile.

Harry's eyes widened.

It was _amazing._

A large street stretched out before them, lined with hundreds and hundreds of different colourful shops. There was so much to see, so much to take in, that Harry wished he had five more pairs of eyes so that he could keep up with everything. Stacks of cauldrons, screeching blue bats hanging from perches, piles and piles of old books. . . there was so much to see! Harry was only dimly aware of Aunt Minnie taking his hand and tugging him forwards.

The alley wasn't very full, but quite a few people noticed them and stared. Harry flattened his hair again and stuck closer to Albus- who was leading the way- and Aunt Minnie. He hadn't been out into the wizarding public in nearly a whole year- the last place being the Ministry of Magic, and he had forgotten what it was like.

Gringotts towered above them, letting off a bright glare. Harry didn't understand much about buildings, but it was definitely _very cool._ Not as great as Hogwarts, of course, because Hogwarts was the best ever! But _very cool._

Albus stopped, turning around. 'I'll be going now, Harry. Stay with Minerva, okay?'

'Are you going to Gringotts?'

'Yes. I have several important things to do. But I'll let you know if I see any dragons, okay?' Albus winked.

'Wow! _Dragons_!' Harry exclaimed. 'Are there dragons there!?'

Albus chuckled. 'Of course, Harry. Very deep down, protecting the vaults.'

'Wow. . .' Harry trailed off. 'And I can't come in and see?'

'No, Harry, not today. But another time, yes. Alright?'

Harry nodded, and Albus smiled.

'I'll see you a bit later, then.'

Harry watched him disappear into a crowd, before turning back around to Minerva.

'Are we getting my clothes now?'

'Yes, Harry.'

Minerva led him into a small, purple store with a large sign overhead reading ' _Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions'_ (though Harry barely had time to glance at it). The inside was nice, and thankfully empty save for a squat witch with white hair pulled up behind her head and a young-looking woman in the corner, who was folding up several robes.

It was strange to be there, buying clothes, because most of the time Albus and Minerva ordered them from Hogwarts by post. It was much easier. Harry couldn't really remember a time he had gone to an actual _clothing_ store.

The witch looked up when she heard them, smiling, and bustled over to them.

'Hello, hello! What can I do for you today? _Minerva,_ dear, is that you?'

'Good morning, Madam Malkin.' Minerva said. 'Harry, here, is in need of a new pair of robes, and-'

'Harry?' Madam Malkin frowned for a second, before her eyes widened in understanding. 'Oh, of course!' She lowered her voice. 'I am very pleased to meet you, Mr Potter.'

Harry smiled at her nervously.

Madam Malkin was quick to get straight down to business. She brought over several robes, which Minerva helped Harry try on. The lady in the corner- who appeared to be an assistant- made a strange sort of squealing noise when she realised who Harry was, and nearly dropped a measuring tape she was bringing over. In the end, Harry walked out of the shop with a nice pair of dark-blue casual robes. Most of his clothes were what one would consider 'muggle', but he did wear robes every once in a while- like when he had visited the Ministry.

Albus was waiting outside for them.

'Albus! You're here!'

'Indeed, Harry. I am very much present.'

Harry giggled. 'Are we going back to Hogwarts, now?'

Albus' eyes twinkled. 'Perhaps. . . though I did have something else in mind. Would you care for some ice-cream?'

'Ice-cream! Really?'

Minerva laughed lightly. 'Yes, Harry. Florean Fortescue's is the place.'

'Oooooh!'

They reached Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour several minutes later, and took a seat at a small round table outside. A tall, bearded man had soon approached them.

'Morning Albus! And _Minerva_ \- hello!'

The three adults exchanged greetings for a few seconds, and then the man turned to Harry.

'And who might you be, lad?'

It took Harry a moment to realise that the man was asking for his name. He hesitated, but the man seemed to be friends with Albus and Aunt Minnie, right? So he had to be okay. And there was something nice about him, too, something Harry liked. 'Harry Potter, sir.'

'This is Mr Fortescue, Harry. He is the owner,' Albus said.

The man- Mr Fortescue- beamed at him.

'Hello, Mr Fortescue.'

'No, no! Call me Florean, dear boy!' said Fortescue, smiling again. 'What would you like to order today? My chocolate sundaes do seem to be rather popular at the moment. . .'

In the end, Harry got a large scoop of choc-chip ice-cream with sprinkles on top, Albus a banana and whipped cream Sundae, and Minerva a bowl of vanilla and caramelised cherry ice-cream. Harry ate until he was full, then licked the melted ice-cream off his fingers. The sun shone brightly in the sky, birds chirped high above them, and Harry couldn't stop smiling, despite the many eyes he could feel on the back of his head (nobody seemed to want to approach him, though, with the Supreme Mugwump and Firmest Hogwarts Professor at his side). It was a perfect Summer's day!

* * *

A/N: Thank you to everybody who has read/favourited/reviewed this story so far! I really appreciate it :D


	15. Chapter 15: The Scar

Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn't mine

A/N: I had a day off and couldn't resist writing this chapter a little early, so here it is :)

* * *

 **Chapter 15: The Scar**

Rain battered the sides of the castle as a ferocious wind howled outside, rattling windows and sending leaves and branches flying across the grounds. Thunder rumbled, deep and menacing, and several seconds later a loud crack of lightning lit up the sky.

Harry sat in his bedroom, carefully drawing a picture on the card he had been working on for Albus all afternoon. It was going to be his birthday soon, and Harry wanted to surprise him with a present. He had a bit of pocket money saved up, but Harry had no way to spend it, and he didn't want to ask Aunt Minnie incase Albus found out, so he had decided to simply make him a nice card with a drawing on the cover- which is what he had done when he was younger. Harry had confidence that his artistic abilities had improved since then, though. _No way_ was he as bad as colouring in as when he was five, or even seven! No. He would be nine soon, in just a few short months, and _everybody_ was good at drawing when they were nine.

He was a little bit scared of the storm, even though he usually didn't mind them. He and Albus had watched it earlier on when it had only just started, leaning against the foggy windows behind Albus' desk. But now, as he sat on the floor next to his bed- alone- he felt slightly weary, especially when the thunder roared hard. He imagined it was a dragon, a great big dragon flying down to land on the roof of the castle! But the storm was getting worse, and with each passing minute- louder.

Harry's room was much the same as it had been when he was younger, except there were more toys, now, and a large wardrobe stood on one end of the room. Next to his bed- which was underneath one of the windows in the furthest corner from the door- was a small shelf with some of his toys. There was a stuffed toy dragon on the covers, which Albus and Minnie had told him belonged to him when he was a baby, and which Harry liked sleeping with because it reminded him of his mum and dad.

Harry stuck his tongue out between his teeth, frowning in concentration. He had nearly finished the drawing on the card now. The only part missing was the sun, which seemed a bit funny to Harry, as the real sun was currently nowhere to be seen. He selected a yellow pencil from his small collection of coloured ones (quills were only for writing- you couldn't colour things in with one unless had colour-changing ink, but that was always very messy), and began sketching his best image of the fiery ball.

It was then that it happened.

'Ow!' Harry gasped, dropping the pencil. Sharp pain had flared up in his scar, and Harry clasped his hands to his forehead. A mere second later it was over, and Harry found himself breathing harshly and blinking tears out of his eyes.

What had happened?

His scar had never hurt before, _ever._ It was just that- a scar. Albus had explained why he had it before, that he had gotten cut when the evil wizard- Voldemort- had killed his parents, but it never bothered him, and it certainly never did what it had just done.

And now the pain was gone, as quickly as it had come. There was a knock on the door, and Harry leapt to his feet just as Minerva poked her head through the doorway.

'It's di- Harry?'

His eyes were wide and slightly teary.

'What happened?'

'I don't know. . .' Harry said slowly. He felt strange, really strange, and he couldn't shake it off. He shivered.

'What do you mean you don't know?' Minerva asked gently. She walked into the room and sat down on the bed, patting the spot next to her, but Harry continued standing. She frowned. 'Are you hurt? Did you fall over?'

'No!' Harry said, feeling slightly indignant despite what had just happened. He wasn't a _baby_ anymore, and he didn't just _fall over._ 'It's my scar!'

Minerva blinked. 'Your. . . scar?'

Harry nodded. 'It hurt! Jus' now. And it _never_ hurts!'

'Your _sca_ r hurt?'

'It _burned_!'

Minerva took a deep breath and reached out to stroke his hair. 'I'm sure everything's fine, Harry,' she reassured him, and he stepped closer to her so that she could give him a quick hug. 'Sometimes, parts of our bodies just hurt, like a muscle in your leg or one of your fingers, even when you haven't done anything.'

'Really?'

'Yes,' she replied. Nevertheless, she was worried. Minerva knew that the scar was linked to You-Know-Who in some way, more than anybody realised. Albus had told her as much. What if-

 _No._

She shook that thought off immediately.

Voldemort was gone. He would always be gone. Well. . . perhaps not always. Minerva understood that he wasn't really dead, that he would be back one day. But the scar didn't mean anything. It _couldn't._ It may be correlated with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in some way, but that didn't mean he was going to _come back._ It was absurd!

Harry was probably having some form of phantom pain, or maybe- perhaps- he had been thinking about his parents, and his body had reacted. It was possible. Anything was, with a magical scar unlike any other.

And yet. . .

Minerva shook her head again.

'Come, Harry,' she said tiredly, standing up from the bed. 'Let's go down to the Hall.'

* * *

A/N: Oh no . . . Harry's scar hurt!


	16. Chapter 16: Birthday

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

 **A/N: It's the 31st of July, like in the story- Happy Birthday Harry!**

* * *

 **Chapter 16: Birthday**

In the shadowy dungeons of an unknown location, a group of cloaked figures sat around a table, huddled together as they talked in low voices. There would be no disturbances, and nobody to overhear them, but secrecy was always best. It was a plan they were discussing, a plan that had slowly began to form in their minds over the previous days as new information came to light. Their leader was absent, doing something no one knew or dared to guess, but he would be back, soon, and they would talk some more. They would plan even further until every stage was complete, and the boy was in their hands. They would succeed.

* * *

Several hundred miles away, the sun was just beginning to rise over the grounds surrounding Hogwarts castle. Harry lay in his bed, breathing softly. He was fast asleep, still, despite having gone to bed early the night before, but in the next few moments would be starting to wake up.

A small yawn, a little stretch, and Harry's eyes blinked open several times, adjusting to the bright sunlight streaming in through the two large windows in his room. It took him several seconds to remember why he was so excited, so eager to get up, and when he did, he let out a small scream and shot up in bed.

It was his birthday!

Grinning from ear to ear, Harry pushed the covers off himself and swung his legs over the side. He couldn't believe it, he really couldn't believe it! Today he was nine- nine years old! A whole year older than eight, one year closer to his age being double digits, and another step nearer to being able to start at Hogwarts when he was eleven!

Harry raced to the wardrobe on the other side of his room and hurried to change out of his pyjamas (a set with a pattern of small golden snitches that sometimes zoomed around on the fabric) and pull on some clothes. When he was done, he yanked the door to his room open and ran out into the landing and down the stairs to the office.

'Albus!'

Albus sat in a small armchair, reading a copy of the morning's _Daily Prophet._ He looked up, eyes twinkling, when he heard Harry trampling down the steps, and placed the newspaper down just as Harry threw himself into his arms.

'It's my birthday!'

'Indeed it is,' remarked Albus, smiling. 'Happy Birthday!'

Harry took a step back. 'Do I get any presents?'

Albus chuckled. 'Of course, Harry. What do you think?' He stood up, stretching. 'Breakfast first, however.'

'Ok!'

They headed down to the Great Hall together, Harry skipping along the way. Several ghosts passed them as they walked and wished him a Happy Birthday, which made Harry question how they knew before he remembered that it was _Hogwarts_ and that he was, well, famous (as much as he didn't like it). There were no students around, as it was mid-way through the summer holidays.

As they got closer to the Hall, delicious smells of hot breakfast food wafted out into the corridors. By the time they were walking through the doors, Harry was nearly drooling.

Minerva was there, standing next to the Head table, where several other teachers sat drinking mugs of steaming coffee and tea.

'Aunt Minnie!'

She gave him a tight hug when they reached her. 'Happy Birthday, Harry.'

This was followed by several other choruses of 'Happy Birthday' from the rest of the assembled teachers; Professor Sprout, Professor Kettleburn, Professor Vector, and Professor Flitwick. Professor Snape was nowhere to be seen. Harry was secretly glad.

'Nine, already!' Professor Flitwick squeaked, beaming at Harry. 'Growing up so fast... .'

'Yep! I'm _old_ now!'

Everybody laughed.

Breakfast was incredible. There were many more options than usual, in celebration. Not only were there the classics; fried eggs, sausages and beans, breakfast potatoes, fried tomatoes and mushrooms, toast with jam and butter, muffins, porridge, drinks such as milk and hot chocolate and juice, and an array of different cereals such as Cheeri Owls and Pixie Puffs, but the table was also laden with plates of doughnuts, croissants, chocolate pastries and tarts.

Harry helped himself to a small chocolate croissant as well as some fried eggs with the potatoes and tomatoes, and a glass of cold orange juice.

As breakfast was wrapping up, Professor Sprout presented Harry with a present on behalf of all the Hogwarts Staff. It was a set of balls- balls that looked rather plain and ordinary, except when thrown into the air, they would turn into a different type of bird. Harry got up from the table and chucked one up towards the ceiling as high as he could. Several metres above his head, the ball transformed into a small robbin, which flew around him for nearly a minute before turning back into a ball and falling into Harry's open palm. Harry was amazed.

'This is really cool!' he cried, throwing another ball- which became a small goldfinch. Harry laughed. 'It looks a bit like a snitch!'

'So it does,' agreed Albus. 'So it does.'

'We have something else for you as well, Harry,' Minerva told him. Harry turned back to face the table.

'What is it!?'

'Ahh, you shall see.' She waved her wand, and a package wrapped in paper flew out from under her chair and towards Harry. Harry caught it and began to open it. Seconds later he was holding a strange, brightly-coloured object, which consisted of some long stick-like parts stuck to some fabric, and some. . . string?

'What is it?' Harry asked, slightly puzzled.

'A wonderful Muggle creation,' Albus explained. 'Enjoyed by people of all ages! I believe it is called a kite.'

'A _kite!_ ' Harry exclaimed. He observed it closely, and noticed that it was shaped as something- something big with wings and a tail and sharp claws. . .

'Wow! It looks exactly like a dragon! But, wait- how do you use it? What does it do?'

'You fly it,' Albus said. 'It is able to catch the wind and hover in the air. Ingenious!'

'Woah. . .' Harry was still a bit confused, but it looked to be like a very fun present. 'I'm going to go try it right now!'

That did not work quite as well as Harry had imagined.

Flying a kite was much harder than it sounded. After positioning himself at the front of the castle, near the main front doors, Harry had tried to run fast enough in order for the kite to work, but it had done just the opposite and dived to the ground, nearly hitting Harry's legs.

As Harry tried fruitlessly to get it up into the air by throwing it as high as he could for the third time, he heard a familiar voice calling out to him, and whipped around.

'Uncle Remus!'

Harry dropped the kite on the grass and rushed towards him.

'Happy Birthday, Harry.'

'Thanks!' said Harry breathlessly. 'Remus, Remus, d'you know how to fly a kite?'

If Remus was startled by the sudden question, he didn't show it. 'Hmm. . . a kite? I do- yes- I _do_ believe your mother once showed me what one was.'

'Really? My mum showed you?' Harry had several pictures of his parents, and most people he knew often talked about them and told him stories of when they were students at Hogwarts if he asked, but he relished every new bit of information he got about them. 'Wow, she knew how to fly a kite! Can you show me how, then? I've got one- it's my present from Albus and Aunt Minnie!'

Remus smiled. 'Let's see it, then.'

'Ok!' Harry rushed back and grabbed his kite, before going back to Remus and thrusting it into his arms. 'Here it is! D'you see how it looks like a _dragon_?'

'Oh yes, a very beautiful design,' Remus turned it over for inspection. 'You see this, Harry? That's the string. You have to hold on to the end and then run as fast as you can, in _that-'_ he pointed towards the Black Lake, '-direction. The wind should pick it up and keep it in the air, see?'

'I tried that before, but it didn't work.'

'You were probably not running fast enough, and you have to hold the string properly too. Here, wrap the end around your fist, that way, yes, and hold it tight.' Harry did so. 'Now, you might want to try running down that hill over there, to gain more speed.'

'Okay! Okay, I'll do that!

'Good. Want to give it a go?'

'Yes!'

Several seconds later, Harry was positioned at the top of a rather large hill. If he continued without stopping once he reached the bottom, he would run straight into the water. 'Okay, I'm ready!' he called down to Remus.

'Alright. On the count of three, Harry. . . One. Two. Three-'

'Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!'

Harry shot down the hill, yelling all the way. He could feel the string tugging at his hands, but he didn't let go- he just kept going. Harry spared a quick glance behind him and saw that the kite was in the air! Finally! He ran for a few more seconds, then slowed down to a stop and turned around so that he could face the kite. It was quite high up, at least 20 feet. The wings and spiky red tail of the dragon flapped about in the wind. It was amazing.

Harry kept flying it for a good while, until he finally got tired and Remus helped him bring the string in and take the kite down. They headed back into the castle, Harry chattering on and on about everything he had done recently as Remus listened patiently. _Ah, children._

The rest of the day was spent relaxing and reading books, followed with more playing outside (something which even included a quick swim in the shallows of the Black Lake), tumbling down grassy hills, and climbing trees (Harry wished he could climb the Whomping Willow, but he knew it was far too dangerous to try, even without any adults telling him).

* * *

Later on in the evening, Hagrid came up to Albus' office to see Harry and hand him a birthday present on behalf of him, and also Remus. Harry sat in an armchair as he unwrapped what felt like some sort of large- but quite light in terms of weight- book; Albus, Minerva, Hagrid and Remus spread out around him.

It _was_ a book. Or rather, an album with a dark red cover. Harry opened up the first page, and his eyes immediately went wide.

There were photos of his parents.

Despite having some already, these were all new, and _different._ Shots of Lily and James lounging around the castle grounds, a few pictures of them when they were in their younger years, photos of them kissing (Harry wasn't grossed out, they were his _parents). . ._ One photo showed them sitting on a bed, holding a bundle of blankets in their arms. Another showed Harry as an older baby, sleeping against his father's chest. There were also several photos of them when they were younger, as young as Harry was now, before starting Hogwarts. They were very old, without a lot of colour, but they still moved! He had Lily's eyes, of course, and he was a spitting image of James at the same age.

'Do you like it, Harry?' Remus spoke up from beside him. 'Hagrid and I organised it earlier this month. We got in contact with some of your parents' old friends and collected as many photos as we could get.'

'Th-thank you!' Harry threw himself into Hagrid's arms, then proceeded to hug Remus, Albus and Aunt Minerva in tow. He wasn't really sure what to say. It was the perfect present, and he loved it, but too much to be able to put into words.

'Now, Harry,' began Minerva, after Harry had sat back down in his seat and flicked through the album again. 'I think it is time for your birthday dinner.'

* * *

Harry sat at the Head table again, Albus and Minerva at his side. Most of the teachers were there, now, including Professor Snape (though he didn't look too happy about it). Dinner was just as good as breakfast, if not better, and Harry was just finishing off the last of his roast potatoes and vegetables when everybody went quiet and the candles and torches throughout the Great Hall went out. Harry looked up in shock, wondering what was going on, and a split second later knew exactly what; a massive round birthday cake was floating up the aisle towards him. Neatly laid out on top were nine flickering, blue candles, and as the cake got closer, Harry saw that it was a chocolate one with lots of icing. Just as it carefully rested on the table in front of him, everybody began to sing Happy Birthday. Harry sat there in the dark, his bright green eyes shining in the light of the candles, unable to contain the elated smile spreading across his face. Though he loved all of his birthdays (the ones he could remember, anyway), he had never had such a big celebration. This one had to be the best.

The Hall lit up again after the last notes of the song were sung, and everybody clapped. Harry took a deep breath and blew on the candles, wishing happily that every day would be like this one. Then he cut the cake himself (with a little help from Albus), and placed it on his plate. The dinner dishes had all vanished while it had been dark- replaced by the dessert ones and several bowls of ice-cream, and even some fruit.

'Happy. . . birthday. . . Potter. . .' Snape managed to get out when Harry passed him a plate of cake. Harry tried to stifle his giggles with one hand, but was forced to quickly turn away as he burst out laughing. He could almost _feel_ Snape's angry glare behind him.

Mouth filled with cake and ice-cream, with everybody he cared about by his side, Harry thought back on the day. It had been such a good one- the best _ever!_ He had gotten all these presents, and had all this delicious food, and everybody had sung him Happy Birthday, and he was nine- finally nine!

He had no way of knowing that within the next month, his whole life would change forever.

. . .

* * *

 **A/N: This is the last chapter, but as you can see, it is far from over.**

 **The second part of this story- 'Nightmare Most Real'- will be published separately, and the first chapter of it will be posted tomorrow. It is set a couple of months after Harry's birthday, and it is when all the action kicks off, as Harry gets kidnapped. . . kidnapped by _Death Eaters._**

 **(There will be a third part also, hopefully, but much later).**

 **It is, of course, a continuation of this story, but can also be read separately.**

 **I hope everybody enjoyed this story, and will also like the next part, which is rather different and- well- sad, really. It's quite brutal, so if you don't like suffering, or sadness (which I can understand) then you might not want to read it. I'm sorry if that's the case.**

 **A massive thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed, favourited, and followed this story! I really, really appreciate it :)**


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